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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26383330">Wintering With Wolves</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raicheru/pseuds/Raicheru'>Raicheru</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Wood [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU- Cannon divergence, AU- Modern Setting Mixed with Canon Fantasy Setting, Alternate Character Origins, Book/Show/and Game Lore, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, Fluff, Found Family, Jaskier | Dandelion-centric, M/M, Magic, Mild Angst, OOC Behavior based on Alternate Character Origins, Sibling affection, Sibling bickering, fraternal relationships, wolf family</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:53:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26383330</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raicheru/pseuds/Raicheru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Three weeks after waking in Kaer Morhen, Jaskier is still settling into his new surroundings.  Winter is starting to establish itself and he's trying to figure out more about how his abilities work while trying to keep himself occupied.  He finds guidance among the Wolves of Kaer Morhen as he spends time with each one.  </p><p>Takes place after "Into the Wood"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Wood [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>73</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>310</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Unexpected Approval</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Takes place after "Into the Wood"</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Up close, Kaer Morhen was a crumbling shadow of its former self, like a wounded beast crouching at the edge of the mountains, clinging to the cliffs as it struggled to continue on.  Jaskier wandered the halls carefully, mindful of his footing on some of the less well kept brickwork that crumbled under his boots.  There were some passages that were impassable and he'd been warned away from the northern battlements entirely.  Castles and keeps took a lot of upkeep and it was a bit much for five men to handle, especially since most of them only stayed during the winter months.  </p><p>	Coen had arrived a week after he woke up, and he'd regarded Jaskier with mild curiosity before nodding silently and heading up to his room.  He didn't look quite like the other Witchers and he didn't have a Wolf medallion.  A dark, neatly trimmed beard covered his cheeks, but the edge of the pockmarks on his face peeked above.  And his eyes weren't the same clean gold as the others.  Instead, his gray eyes looked like there were jaundiced patches seeping in around his rounded pupils.  But he moved with the same predatory grace and his gaze seemed to take in everything as if unconsciously preparing for a fight at any moment.</p><p>	All of the Wolves had accepted Jaskier readily and listened carefully to his story as he told them of how he came to the Wood.  He skipped some details, and gave them a general overview.  Otherwise they'd be there listening all winter.  All of them went silent when he spoke about going into the river with the Rusalka and being rescued by a Leshen and its wolves.  The Werecat made Eskel frown.  </p><p>	“I'm going to have to have a chat with Tremaine,” Eskel said, his tone grave.  “If he's started actively killing people instead of just scaring them, that's the last straw.”</p><p>	Geralt shrugged.  “The villagers said he'd been killing people, but I couldn't smell any old blood and no Necrophages had been drawn in.  If he's just scaring them, it should be fine.”</p><p>	“He attacked me,” Jaskier said, turning to glare at Geralt.  “I've got his claw marks on my chest.”  But then again, he hadn't actually hurt Jaskier aside from that.  Part of him wished he'd had a chance to get to know him better.</p><p>	Geralt's lips thinned but he didn't say anything.</p><p>	“I'll be heading in that direction anyway, so I'll go see him just the same.”  Eskel went back to sharpening one of his many knives.  Jaskier should have been used to how heavily armed Witchers were, but it always started him when one of them would casually whip out a blade and start sharpening or twirling it.</p><p>	“If the village doesn't hire you, leave him be,” Vesemir grumbled.  "We don't-”</p><p>	“Yes, yes,” Lambert cut in from his seat by the fire.  “We don't get involved.”</p><p>	Jaskier snorted and they all looked at him.  He fought not to shrink under the combined stare of five sets of golden eyes.  “What?  Geralt barged his way into helping the man at the village where Tremaine was without being offered money.  They guy was practically tripping over himself saying he couldn't pay anything.”  His own eyes narrowed.  “You honestly can't tell me that all of you wander around helping people without getting <em>involved</em>.”  He held up his fingers and made air quotes for the last word.</p><p>	“Witchers serve a singular purpose,” Vesemir said with the tone of a professor starting a lecture.  “We protect people from the monsters that live in the Wood and we are paid for our services.  That is all.”</p><p>	“What about the monsters in human skin?” Jaskier asked, his tone low.  “Do you ignore them?”</p><p>	All of them looked like they'd bitten into something sour and he had a feeling that they'd all crossed paths with men who were more monstrous than the monsters they hunted.  Even Vesemir looked uncomfortable, but none of them said anything.  Though he'd already known it from his travels with Geralt, it confirmed Jaskier's belief that the myths about Witchers being emotionless were bullshit.  Nobody looked that miserable without feeling something.</p><p>	They topic turned to Jaskier's magic and his Elven heritage.  Vesemir didn't have any first hand knowledge about Bards, but he planned to look into some of the older texts in the library.  The Witchers were wary of the idea of testing his magic, but willing to try so long as they took precautions.  They were still working on that last part two weeks later.  Jaskier had played his lute and sang a few songs in front of the hearth, but with the exception of his voice echoing in the large hall, it didn't seem to have any effect on anything.  So while they hadn't placed any particular restrictions on him, he wasn't any closer to knowing how to use his magic with intent.</p><p>	Right now, Jaskier was in the library flipping through the pages of a beautifully illustrated bestiary that he'd found tucked in a back corner.  This was no reproduced copy.  Every page had been lovingly drawn and painted by hand with delicate text listing weakness and strengths of each beast.  He grinned when he saw the page for Rusalkas.  The woman in the picture didn't have the same features as the one he'd come across, but the artist had captured that same sense of ethereal beauty right down to the flowers braided into her long hair.  </p><p>	His notebook lay open on the table next to him and he'd been taking notes and writing down some descriptions of the monsters he saw on the pages.  Geralt was somewhat less than descriptive when he asked questions, and while Jaskier wanted to see everything, he was capable of being realistic.  Just like with the Forktails, he wouldn't be able to go with him on every hunt to observe.  So he planned to make the most of the winter and root around in the library for more resources.  His other self-appointed task would be to do more research on herbs, specifically ones that were edible and those Geralt might find useful.  He'd be damned if he let the other man carry him around the Continent without being able to provide something more tangibly useful than music.  </p><p>	Whispering voices and the sound of children laughing made him look up, but he didn't see anyone.</p><p>	“Hello?”  He didn't hear anything else, so when Vesemir cleared his voice behind him, Jaskier nearly jumped out of his chair.  “Whoa!”  The older man chuckled.  “Yes, by all means, terrify the Human. . .er, Elf, I guess,” he said awkwardly and tried to shrug it off.  “That's still new to me.”</p><p>	“Did you need something?”</p><p>	“No.  I just thought I heard someone.”  He looked up the the older Witcher who regarded him thoughtfully.  “We're the only ones here, right?”	</p><p>	“Eskel and Geralt are repairing the north wall, Coen is in the armory, and Lambert is out hunting.  There's no one else in this wing.”</p><p>	“It's just-”  Jaskier hesitated.  “I thought I heard kids.”</p><p>	Vesemir's gaze turned grave.  “Children have not walked these halls in decades.”  He took a deep breath and sighed slowly before handing Jaskier a book. </p><p>	“What's this?”  </p><p>	“Can you read it?”</p><p>	Jaskier flipped through the pages, but the twirling text was unreadable to him.  “No.”  </p><p>	“Hmm.  Interesting.  It's a copy of Ithlinne's prophesy written in Elder Speech.  I was curious to see if you read it as well as spoke it.”</p><p>	“I don't even realize when I'm speaking it,” Jaskier muttered, shutting the book and setting it aside.  He'd look at it more closely later.  He looked up to see Vesemir fingering the wolf medallion that hung from his neck.  “I'm not speaking it now, am I?”</p><p>	“No.  But it vibrates every time you hum.”</p><p>	“Every time, as in every single time?”</p><p>	“Yes.”  Vesemir watched him for a moment before nodding at the door.  “Come downstairs to the kitchen.  I could use another set of hands.”  </p><p>	He headed out of the room without waiting for an answer, like he assumed he would be followed.  Jaskier was already on his feet and heading for the door before he realized he'd gotten up.  Hm.  Vesemir had an easy authority to his bearing and he seemed used to being obeyed.  The Wolves often argued and barked back, but they all seemed to listen to their elder without much fuss.  Well, most of them.  Lambert was mouthier than the rest and seemed to have a much larger chip on his shoulder than the others.  </p><p>	Down in the kitchens there was a pot of broth simmering on a hook over the fire in the large hearth and there was an array of vegetables laid out on the heavy wooden table.  Jaskier eyed the paring knife with mild apprehension and then shook himself.  While he wasn't keen on stabbing anyone or threatening them with a blade, he was competent in the kitchen.  Mostly.  </p><p>	“What do you need?” he asked Vesemir.  </p><p>	“Peel and chop those potatoes and carrots while I finish working on this batch of oil.”  Vesemir moved over to a contraption that looked like some sort of press with a sieve over a tray that was catching drips of oil.  	</p><p>	“You make your own?”</p><p>	“Hn.  Cheaper than buying it, and I've got a farmer south of here that sends me seeds every year.”  Vesemir turned a crank that made the oil drip into the tray quicker.  Jaskier took up the knife and started peeling.  </p><p>	“Does it go bad?  It's not like you have refrigeration in the Wood.  It's cold up here so your root cellar's probably pretty good, but I figure that will only get you so far.”</p><p>	Vesemir chuckled.  “Look over in that closet.”  </p><p>	Jaskier set down his half peeled potato before going over to heavy wooden door set into the stone and opening it.  A waft of cold air greeted him and he blinked in surprise.  “What the. . .”  Siting on the shelves, in what appeared to be a walk in refrigerator, were large blocks of ice, but they didn't appear to be melting.  Jaskier held out his hand but didn't touch, and felt the chill kiss of magic on his fingers.  “Neat.”</p><p>	“We get by.  It's more consistent that setting provisions in the snow.”</p><p>	“And it's inside.”  It had snowed twice already, and while it hadn't been a blizzard, it was still cold.  “Did. . .Yennefer do this?” Jaskier asked as he closed the door and went back to peeling spuds.</p><p>	Vesemir harrumphed.  “No.  She rarely deigns to grace us with her presence, and she believes such charms are beneath her.  She'll sell her skills to the country folk looking for remedies, but rarely does anything useful out of kindness when it doesn't gain her anything.”</p><p>	“That sounds about right,” Jaskier muttered.  He'd had only seen her a couple of times, but the quick impressions he got were that she deemed her time more valuable than anyone else's.  And she didn't let many things get in the way of what she wanted.  Except for Geralt.  “How does Geralt know her?”</p><p>	“You'll have to ask him,” Vesemir said, his tone final.  Well that was the end of that topic of the discussion.  </p><p>	Vesemir drained the tray into a pot and set it aside before unscrewing the press and reloading the sieve with more seeds.  Jaskier blew out a breath and chopped up the potatoes before moving on to peeling carrots.  </p><p>	“So what do you do when you're not on the Path?  Geralt said you don't travel as much as you used to.”</p><p>	“This place needs a keeper, so I stay here for most of the year.  But I'm not quite at the point of becoming a complete hermit, so I head down the mountain to visit Malcolm occasionally.  I go out on hunts once in a while when I get restless.”</p><p>	“What did you used to do before?  When there were more of you.”  Jaskier almost regretted asking as soon as he said it, but the other man didn't seem to mind.</p><p>	“I was a fencing instructor for the trainees.”  Vesemir huffed softly.  “We took in farm boys more often than not, and most of them didn't know which end of the sword to hold.”  </p><p>	Jaskier wasn't sure what was making him so talkative.  He hadn't expected him to answer the question, but he wasn't about to stop him now.  “Did Geralt come from a farm?”</p><p>	“Geralt was. . .special.”  Vesemir turned the crank to press the seeds and watched the oil drip into the tray.  “He wasn't quite like any of the other boys.”  </p><p>	Jaskier chuckled and tried to picture a pint sized Geralt grumping his way through the Keep.  “Was he always this grumpy?”</p><p>	“No.”  The single word was filled with regret and sadness.</p><p>	“I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to bring up bad memories.  I don't really know what happened, but I know it was pretty bad.”</p><p>	“It's alright.  Part of me wants to forget, but the rest of me. . .I want to remember.  The Trials are. . .were. . .unimaginably rough.  But they were necessary.  To make us stronger.  Hunting monsters is not for the faint of heart or the weak of body.”  Vesemir's voice settled into a lecture cadence, and Jaskier wasn't entire sure he realized he'd done so.  But he didn't say anything as he continued to peel and chop.  Vesemir continued, his voice low.  “Geralt was sturdier, hardier than most of his peers.  He went through more than the others because he'd weathered the worst of the Trials with more fortitude.  But it made him harder, more sullen.”</p><p>	“Oh, I think Lambert has earned the crown for being sullen.”</p><p>	Vesemir chuckled.  “Lambert's bitter, but a good man.  And that's hard to manage in our line of work sometimes.”</p><p>	“What about Eskel?  I can tell he's been through a lot, but he's happier than the others.”  Jaskier didn't know about Coen.  The other Witcher was quiet and kept to himself, even when he sparred with the other Wolves.</p><p>	“He and Geralt grew up together.  Caused trouble together,” the older man said with a smile before he sobered again.  “And they went through the Trials at the same time.  Boy always had a bright light within him and even the mutations couldn't dampen his smile.”</p><p>	Eskel was certainly the most jovial of the five of them, though Vesemir got a pass due to how many centuries he must have weathered.  Living that long would most likely make anyone become maudlin.  </p><p>	After Vesemir finished bottling the oil in jars and Jaskier sliced he last carrot, they put the chopped vegetables into the pot and stirred the broth and chunks of cooking meat that had been bubbling over the hearth most of the morning.  Vesemir flipped a linen cloth off of some rounded shapes to reveal loaves of bread dough that had been rising in the heat from the hearth.  Some were plain white, while others were speckled with herbs.  Vesemir's bread was some of the best Jaskier had ever tasted.  He helped carry the trays over to the hot, waiting oven in the corner so Vesemir could place the loaves inside with a long wooden paddle.  </p><p>	Jaskier was warm and comfortable here in the kitchen and he imagined that he'd be spending a fair amount of time in the warmth of the fire as winter got deeper.  They hadn't quite been snowed in yet, but it would happen soon.  </p><p>	“How do you manage to feed five Witchers for the entire winter?”  </p><p>	“Gardening and hunting mostly, with some trade with the nearby settlements and farms.  We keep their fields safe and they pay us in produce and grain.  But other than that, we're fairly self sufficient.  Believe me, five is much easier than fifty.”</p><p>	“Do you do all the cooking?”</p><p>	“We take turns, but I enjoy it, so I don't mind spending extra time in the kitchen.  It passes the time and allows me to experiment a bit.”  Dusting off his hands, Vesemir went into the cold room and came back out with two mugs.  Jaskier settled at a stool and took a sip.  It was quite possibly the best ale he'd ever had.  He raised the mug toward Vesemir.</p><p>	“Yours?”</p><p>	“Hm.  Brewing ale isn't so different from brewing potions.  They use some of the same methodologies, with a bit of fermentation added in.  And most of our potions have an alcohol base.”</p><p>	“Would I be able to learn how to make potions, or is that a Witcher only thing?”</p><p>	Vesemir raised a brow.  “You can't use any of them.  Even with your magic and Elven blood, they would be toxic.”  </p><p>	“Oh, it's not for me.”  Jaskier shrugged, suddenly a little embarrassed.  “I just. . .I want to learn something to help Geralt.”  He covered by taking a long swallow of ale.  “He's done a lot for me.”</p><p>	“How did you meet him?” </p><p>	Jaskier glanced up at him to see that his expression was mild and a bit curious.  Huffing a small chuckle, Jaskier relaxed.  He'd told them about the caravan, but he'd skipped the first time he actually met Geralt.  “I went into the Wood by myself and got chased up a tree by some Wargs two hours in.  Geralt came out of nowhere and got rid of them.”  Jaskier sighed.  He'd been so enchanted by the idea of meeting a legend in person.  “And then he started riding away.”</p><p>	“He left you there?”</p><p>	“I know now that he wouldn't have left me behind for real.  But at the time, I thought he was gone.”  Jaskier blew out a breath before a smile curled his lips.  “I started singing and the next thing I knew, Roach was trying to eat my hair.  Geralt said the horse came back for me.”</p><p>	“Em-hm.”  </p><p>	“I know.  Subtle.  When he took me back to Lettenhove and left me <em>there</em>, I didn't think I'd see him again.”  He had hoped, certainly.  But back then he didn't seriously think that they'd cross paths again.  Jaskier had no idea what he was doing at the time.  Well, he was still learning, but he wasn't quite so fresh off the farm, so to speak, as he had been in the beginning.  “When I saw him with the caravan a week later, I couldn't believe it.  We traveled together for a while, and I kept getting in the way or getting lost.  And he found me every time.”  Jaskier looked down at the table top and ran his fingertip along a crack in the wood.  “I've never met anyone like him before.  He's. . .”  He paused as he struggled for words.  “I love him,” he said finally, knowing that was truer than any poetry he could have come up with.</p><p>	Vesemir drew in a deep breath before letting it out slowly.  “Witchers are trained to travel the Path alone.”</p><p>	“I know.  I'm a liability.  I don't mean-”</p><p>	“I wasn't admonishing you, boy,” Vesemir said, his voice gruff.  “We travel alone for many reasons.  It's a difficult, lonely existence that none of us chose.”</p><p>Jaskier sat quietly and waited for him to continue as he tried to get his racing heart under control.  He thought Vesemir was going to politely, but firmly tell him that he wasn't allowed to travel with Geralt anymore.  That he was endangering him by being at his side.  The other man took a long drink and wiped his mustache.  </p><p>	“I have never seen him so at ease with another person before,” Vesemir said quietly.  “He smiles more.  And for that, you have my sincere thanks.”</p><p>	“Oh.”  Jaskier wasn't quite sure what he'd expected him to say, but that hadn't been it.  “Ah.  It's my pleasure.  Really.”</p><p>	“It will be a bit before anything is ready.  Thanks for your help.”  And with that, Vesemir drained his mug and went over to a large cabinet and started rummaging around.  Jaskier finished his ale and set the mug aside before heading through the opening in the brickwork that led to the main room on the other side of the wide fireplace.  He went back upstairs to Geralt's room to get his lute before coming back down and settling in front of the fire.  He strummed his fingers idly across the strings.  </p><p>	He started singing about people who were lost, but came together in the dark.  About the rising of a golden sun at midnight.  Jaskier thought about the glow of Geralt's eyes when they reflected the firelight.  He smiled as he sang, the words coming freely as the melody wove itself through the air.  </p><p>	He nearly fell out of his chair when something tiny and hard hit him in the temple.  </p><p>	“What the-”</p><p>	“It that was all the fuss is about?” Lambert asked from where he stood on the other side of the room holding an unstrung crossbow loosely in his hand.  The tone and inflection of his voice sounded different for some reason.</p><p>	“What do you mean, fuss?”</p><p>	Lambert smirked and flicked his fingers.  Another small object pinged off Jaskier's forehead and landed on the floor.  He'd thrown a pebble at him.  “Ow!  What the hell, Lambert?”</p><p>	“You really don't know when you're speaking Elder, do you?” the other man asked.  “I thought you were fucking with us.”</p><p>	“I'm speaking it right now?”  When Lambert nodded, Jaskier huffed.  “No.  I can't tell.  It just happens.”  He ducked as another pebble flew in his direction.  He had a sneaking suspicion the the other man had missed on purpose.  “I swear I will come over there and-”</p><p>	“And you'll what?”  Lambert drawled, his voice going back to it's usual sneer.  </p><p>	Jaskier opened his mouth and closed it again.  How could he do anything to someone who could snap him in half easily?  And he'd never be able to sneak up on him.  He was also fairly certain that any retribution he enacted would be directed back at him twofold.  Relaxing and sitting back with his lute in hand, Jaskier started to play as he considered his options.</p><p>	“You know how to speak Elder Speech.”  It wasn't a question.</p><p>	“Hn.”  Lambert shrugged and settled on a bench at one of the smaller tables and started examining the crossbow for wear.  “Wanted to know how to swear and picked up the rest by accident.  You probably learned it from your parents.  Not sure why you can't hear the difference, though.”</p><p>	“Yeah, that's kind of annoying.”  Jaskier plucked the strings hard.  “It's bound to cause issues.”</p><p>	“Might get you weird looks.  Might get you stoned to death.  Hard to say,” Lambert said offhandedly with another shrug as he peered closely at the wood of the crossbow.  </p><p>	“Well that's going to be a problem.”  Jaskier sighed.  “I've got to figure out how to deal with it.”  He hit a sour, discordant note on the lute as another pebble hit his forehead.</p><p>	“Lambert, stop being a child,” Eskel said from the doorway as he came in from outside in just his shirtsleeves.  </p><p>	“Does he do this to you?” Jaskier asked Eskel as he passed him on the way to the kitchen.  </p><p>	“Nah.  When he tries to annoy me on purpose, he throws knives.”</p><p>	“Oh, for fuck's sake,” Jaskier huffed as he turned back to Lambert.  “Has anyone told you you're a raging asshole?”</p><p>	Lambert just grinned.  “Better than an oblivious twink.”</p><p>	Jaskier threw one of the pebbles back at him and the other man caught it easily.  Stupid Witcher reflexes.  He sighed and looked over at Geralt as he came through the door.  Like Eskel, he was just in his shirtsleeves, and his hair was tied back in a tail at the nape of his neck.  </p><p>	“If I asked nicely, would you punch Lambert for me?” Jaskier asked him.</p><p>	Geralt huffed a laugh as he came over to give him a kiss.  “He'd just punch back.  Not worth the trouble.”  He smelled of clean sweat and Jaskier's soap.</p><p>	“Damn.  How was the wall building?”</p><p>	“Tedious.”</p><p>	“How much more do you have to go?”  They'd been working on it for a couple of days now.</p><p>	“It will be a while yet, and we won't get all of it done before it gets too cold to work outside.”  Geralt trailed his fingertips along Jaskier's shoulder before following Eskel into the kitchen, probably to get something to drink.</p><p>	“If you're lonely, Princess, you can hang out with me tomorrow,” Lambert offered.</p><p>	“I would rather roll around naked in the snow.”</p><p>	“We can do that too.”</p><p>	“Why would I want to subject myself to your sass voluntarily?”</p><p>	“If you're really that worried about the Elder thing, I can help you with it and let you know when you're speaking it.  You'll learn to hear it eventually.”</p><p>	“And what's in it for you?” Jaskier asked, immediately suspicious.</p><p>	“If you're going to look a gift horse in the mouth, you can fuck off.  It makes no difference to me.”  The prickly Witcher seemed genuinely unconcerned.  On the outside at least.  He seemed a bit too casual about the dismissal.  </p><p>	“Would it involve more pebbles?” Jaskier asked him with a sigh.</p><p>	“Oh, most definitely.”  Lambert's grin lit up his face and Jaskier rolled his eyes.</p><p>	“Please try not to bruise me.  I am but a squishy mortal.”</p><p>	Lambert snorted.  “You'll probably live longer than us, and you're definitely not mortal.” </p><p>	It was said casually, and it made Jaskier sad.  Lambert honestly thought he'd die on the Path somewhere and seemed. . .not fine with it, necessarily, but maybe resigned.  Jaskier shook his head and considered his own mortality.  He wasn't Human, but he wasn't one hundred percent Elf either.  He had no idea what that might mean for his lifespan.  If he didn't get eaten by something first.  He'd gotten lucky so far, but surely that couldn't last.</p><p>	“What's with that face?” Lambert asked, his lip curling.  “You look like somebody died.”</p><p>	“Just mourning my patience, which will most likely be gone after a few hours in your company.”  Jaskier's fingers danced over the strings in a complicated series of notes.  </p><p>	A deep voice rumbled from one of the chairs by the hearth.  “Try pretending that he's funny.  It works for me.”</p><p>	Jaskier laughed and looked over at Coen who had somehow settled in a chair two feet away without him noticing.  “That would require quite a bit of imagination.”</p><p>	“Fucking Cat,” Lambert muttered, but without any real heat. </p><p>	“Take heart, Lambert.  Aiden actually does find you funny.”</p><p>	“That's because he actually has a sense of humor,” Lambert said as he tossed the crossbow over Jaskier's head.  “Would you look at that?  The bridle's getting all loose and finicky.”</p><p>	Coen snatched the weapon lightly out of the air and turned it over his hands before pulling out a small tool from somewhere on his belt and tinkering with it.  He set it aside as Geralt and Eskel came out of the kitchen carrying baskets of bread, bowls, and pitchers of ale.  Soon they were all settled at the large table together over a meal.  This was something that had surprised Jaskier at first, but he supposed it shouldn't have.  They all had their own chores and tasks during the day, but whoever was physically in the Keep would sit down down to share an evening meal together.  For such supposedly solitary creatures, Witchers seemed pretty social and gathered together often when they had the opportunity.  There was an easy camaraderie between them, even when they were sniping at each other.  Jaskier supposed that was typical for siblings, even if they weren't related by blood.  He smiled and leaned against Geralt's arm where he sat next to him and felt at home for the first time in quite a while.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Shared Unhapiness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Take care of yourselves dear friends and readers.  These are incredibly challenging times and it can be difficult to stay positive.  Remember that you're not alone.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next day, Jaskier stood at the gates of the Keep and wondered what the hell he was doing.  Lambert's idea of spending time together was heading north to a hut by lake to prep the building for winter.  Jaskier thought they'd be in the Keep somewhere.  Or at least be inside.  He was dressed warmly enough and his fingers were tucked into soft, warm gloves.  But gods, he hated the cold.  Lambert was already moving down the path and Jaskier moved to follow him.  But halfway across the drawbridge, he stopped and looked down.  He wasn't sure what drew his attention, but he looked into the deep, dry pit that surrounded the exterior walls of the Keep.</p><p>	It was full of bones. </p><p>	A shiver traveled up Jaskier's spine and he thought he heard the echoes of angry, terrified screams somewhere at the edge of his hearing.  It occurred to him that he hadn't come in the front door when he arrived.  He hadn't even been awake.  The pit of death had been sitting here all this time and he hadn't even known.  </p><p>	“Who were they?”</p><p>	“Assholes who ruined everything.”</p><p>	“Are there any Witchers down there?”</p><p>	“No,” Lambert said, his voice tight.  “We pulled them out and left rest to rot.  Are you coming or not?”</p><p>	“Why?”</p><p>	“Why what?” Lambert's tone was getting sharper as agitation bled into his words.  </p><p>	“Why did they attack the Keep?”</p><p>	“How that fuck should I know?  People are messed up.  Now let's go before I decide you're more trouble than you're worth.”</p><p>	Jaskier tore his gaze away from the grisly display to hold the Witcher's gaze steadily.  “<em>I</em> decide what I'm worth.”</p><p>	Lambert blinked and stared back for a moment before nodding.  “Good.”  And then he was heading off down the path that zigzagged down the rocky slope from the gate.   </p><p>	Jaskier followed him, carefully picking his way along as he took deep, even breaths to calm himself.  Part of the valley spread out before them with rocky outcrops and clusters of pine trees, all covered in a scattering of snow.  It was cold enough that it wasn't melting anymore.  The crumbling ruins of old buildings dotted the valley.  He could see a small structure on a hill to the south with large winged creatures circling what was left of the tower.  They didn't look like birds and Jaskier carefully jogged his way forward to get closer to Lambert.  A building to the west looked dark and abandoned and a long lake stretched away to the north where they were headed.  He wished he'd brought his lute, even though he couldn't play it with gloves on.</p><p>	“So how long have you been doing this?”</p><p>	“Doing what?” Lambert said as he stalked along the narrow path.</p><p>	“Hunted.  Traveled the Path.  Whatever you want to call it.”</p><p>	Lambert snorted.  “Long enough to be tired of it.”</p><p>	“Something tells me you were tired of it the first day you set out.”</p><p>	“You're not wrong.  Load of shit, really.  I didn't choose this.”</p><p>	Jaskier tried not to let his pity get the better of him.  He knew the other man wouldn't appreciate it.  “From what I understand, none of you did.”</p><p>	“I mean, what kind of sick fucks tear boys apart from the inside and remakes them?”</p><p>	Jaskier felt a small jolt in his gut.  He still didn't know what it took to make a Witcher, but he knew it was an unpleasant process.  And he knew what kind of people experimented and remade children.  He'd been raised by one.  “The kind who want to prove they can do it,” Jaskier said finally.  “The ones who think they can profit by changing people to make them into something else.”  </p><p>	Jaskier had a sudden, painful realization about why Witchers insisted on payment the way they did.  There was something ingrained about it, like it was part of the plan and not just a way to help them survive and make a living.  What if had been part of a way to make a profit?  Geralt never took more than people could afford, but if you were going to make an army of superhuman warriors to battle the monsters of the Wood, you'd potentially have the power to charge whatever you wanted for your services or leave people to die.  But who would have set that up?  Who would have gambled on lives like that for the sake of money while making tools out of humans with drugs and experiments?</p><p>	“Hey.” </p><p>	Jaskier flinched when Lambert's hand touched his shoulder, and he found he'd stopped walking.  </p><p>	“Listen. . .I forgot.  About what you went through.”</p><p>	“It's fine,” Jaskier said.  “It's over and done.”</p><p>	“But it never leaves you.”  Lambert's expression was tight and angry.  “It never fucking leaves you because you're never the same.”</p><p>	“You can't change it,” Jaskier told him softly.  </p><p>	“You did.”</p><p>	Jaskier swallowed.  Was that why he wanted him to come out here?  But why bring him out where he couldn't play his lute easily?  His voice seemed to be enough to make his magic work, but the lute made it much easier.  “Listen.  I can't. . .”  Jaskier huffed and looked away.  “I don't know how any of this works.  I can't make you human again.”</p><p>	“What?”</p><p>	Jaskier looked back at him, his expression pained.  “I can't change you back from a Witcher to a Human.”</p><p>	“Who the fuck asked you to do that?”</p><p>	“I thought-”</p><p>	“You thought I'd volunteer to let you experiment on me with your magic?  Fuck, no.”  Lambert slapped him on the back and let out a sharp bark of laughter.  “Not a fucking chance, Princess.  Come on before you suggest something else stupid.”</p><p>	Jaskier bristled and snarled at him, suddenly feeling stupid and too angry to cover for it gracefully.  “Fuck you.”</p><p>	“That's better.”  Lambert stalked off down the trail again.  “All I meant is that you changed yourself back to an Elf after you got fucked over as a kid.  You got over it and made something of yourself.  I was going to tell you it was impressive, but you can get fucked now.”</p><p>	“You're so charming,” Jaskier said as he followed him.</p><p>	“Bet your ass.”  Lambert smirked and then sighed heavily.  “I hate what happened to me, but I'm not interested in going back.  Even if I were human again, it wouldn't change anything.” </p><p>	“Yeah, you'd still be an unapologetic asshole.”</p><p>	“Yup.”  </p><p>	They continued on for a while in with only the wind whistling through the rocks breaking the silence.  It was a clear day and the sun was shining even though the air was crisp and cold.  A hawk wheeled overhead in lazy circles, steering clear of the ruined tower south of the Keep.  </p><p>	“So.  Pankratz.  The guy who. . .”  Lambert seemed to be considering his words. </p><p>	“The one who fucked me up as a kid?”</p><p>	“Yeah.  Is he still around?”</p><p>	“No.  He dropped dead of a heart attack a few years ago.”</p><p>	Lambert sighed.  “Pity.  I would have liked to pay him a visit some time.  People like that always seem to get off too easy.”</p><p>	Jaskier said nothing.  He felt uneasy at how quickly he'd wanted to agree with him.  The petty satisfaction of making the man who'd tried to break and remake him suffer before he died would have been momentarily righteous.  But the reality of the thought made him a little queasy.  It was still oddly comforting that Lambert even considered it.  Jaskier was thinking about what to say when Lambert stopped in front of him and held his hand out, indicating he should stop.  </p><p>	“What is-”</p><p>	“Shhh,” Lambert hissed quietly as he slid one of his swords from the scabbard.</p><p>	Jaskier held still as he tried to figure out what the other man was hearing.  There was an irregular, low thumping sound.  And something that sounded like. . .singing.  Really out of tune singing.  A smile pulled at his lips.  It was a different voice but it held some of the same enthusiasm that Bodger had.  </p><p>	“It's fine.  It's just a Rock Troll.”</p><p>	Lambert turned and looked at him warily with a raised brow.  “How the hell do you know that?”</p><p>	Jaskier shrugged.  “I've met one before, remember?”</p><p>	“Well they're not all dumbass and sunshine.  Some of them smash first and then eat you later.”</p><p>	“Really?”</p><p>	“Yeah, really.  They're not exactly picky eaters.”</p><p>	“Oh.”  </p><p>	There was a low bellow that startled them both.  “Witchaaaa!”</p><p>	“Shit,” Lambert muttered.</p><p>	“Witcha, we smell you,” the gravely voice said.</p><p>	Another, relatively lighter voice joined in.  “Smells Elfses.”  </p><p>	Shit, Jaskier thought.  “Uh, did you know they were here?”</p><p>	“I wouldn't have brought you out here if I thought I actually had to fight something bigger than a wolf.”  </p><p>	Knowing that they'd already been noticed, Jaskier took a deep breath.  “It's a nice day out, isn't it?” he called.  There was a small confused noise from one of the Trolls somewhere off to their left.  </p><p>	“Shinesen brite.  Puff clouds better,” the first voice grumbled.</p><p>	“Well, we're bound to have clouds soon,” Jaskier told him.</p><p>	“Hmm.”  The second Troll seemed to be considering this.</p><p>	Lambert fisted a hand in Jaskier's jacket and drew him up onto his toes.  “What the fuck are you doing?”  He voice was a barely audible whisper.</p><p>	“They already know we're here, and we're upwind.  It doesn't matter where we go from here.  We can't hide.”  Geralt had complained many times about Jaskier being upwind of game on their travels, so he taken to keeping track of which way the wind was blowing when they were out in the woods.</p><p>	“Witcha drop nice Elfses.”  One of the Trolls emerged from the trees with a large rock held up ready to throw.</p><p>	“Put me down, Lambert,” Jaskier said quietly.</p><p>	“What the-”</p><p>	“I make friends pretty quickly.  Just let go.”</p><p>	Lambert set him on his feet again but kept his sword loose and ready in his hand.	</p><p>	“It's fine, my friends,” Jaskier said as he turned to the Troll.  “We were just having a bit of a disagreement.  I'm Jaskier the Bard and this is Lambert the Witcher.  Who might you be?”</p><p>	“Thok,” the one with the rock said as the second stepped out of the trees on their other side.</p><p>	“Blok.”</p><p>	“Well, Thok and Blok, I'm pleased to make your acquaintance.”  Jaskier gave them a flourishing bow.  Both of them seemed inordinately pleased by this.</p><p>	“Seriously?” Lambert's tone was incredulous as he stared at Jaskier like he'd never seen him before.  </p><p>	Before Lambert said something to offend them, Jaskier slid in under his sword arm and wrapped an arm around his waist.  He felt the other man tense but kept his own body language as relaxed as he could.  “My friend and I were just on our way to the hut by the lake shore.”</p><p>	“Not huntin Troll folks?” Thok asked.  </p><p>	“No, of course not,” Jaskier said before Lambert could speak.  “We're surprised to see you out here.  We didn't expect company today.”  Jaskier put a hand on Lambert's wrist and squeezed as he slowly lowered his sword.  He wouldn't have been able to do it if the other man hadn't let him, but the action seemed to appease the Trolls who lowered their rocks and nodded at them.</p><p>	“Twig house stinkin,” Blok said as he spat.  “Witcha 'n Byrd can have.”  </p><p>	“Thok 'n Blok huntin munchins.”  Thok looked around and sniffed before wandering off into the trees.</p><p>	“Good luck on your hunting trip, my friends.”  Jaskier waved as they moved off towards the east.  He took a deep breath and sighed when they were finally out of sight.  That could have ended badly.  Stepping away from Lambert, he gave him some space.  Lambert sheathed his sword and glared at him.</p><p>	“I could have handled them if you hadn't gotten in the way.  Now I'm going to have to come back out here and deal with them.”</p><p>	“Why?  They're not doing anything.”</p><p>	“They're Trolls.”</p><p>	“They're practically children.”</p><p>	“Who eat people and break shit.  Probably holed up in the cave on the eastern edge of the lake.  It'll be a pain in the ass to get them out of there.”</p><p>	“Don't you dare bother them,” Jaskier said, stepping forward and glaring up into his face.  </p><p>	“Are you serious?”</p><p>	“Very.”</p><p>	“Oh, for fuck's sake.”  Lambert sighed and stalked off down the path grumbling to himself in a huff.  “Not sure how Geralt puts up with you.”  He seemed more annoyed than angry now.</p><p>	“Oh, he didn't at first,” Jaskier said cheerfully as he followed after him now that the tension had eased.  “He tried to get rid of me twice before he finally gave up.”<br/>
</p><p> “Then he's not only an idiot, he's an incompetent idiot.  If I wanted to get rid of you, you'd stay gone.”  </p><p>	“If.  Interesting slip of the tongue there.”</p><p>	“Let me rephrase then,” Lambert said as he turned and walked backwards for a moment and spread his arms out.  “<em>When</em> I decide to get rid of you.”</p><p>	“Hey, you're the one who invited me out here.”</p><p>	“A decision I'm regretting more and more every moment.”  Turning around, the Witcher kept walking.  Jaskier just chuckled and followed him.</p><p>	 A short while later, they came upon a small house by the edge of the lake.  It was a little worse for wear and the thatch was patchy.  But it had a comfortable looking chair on the dock and . . . an easel.  Jaskier frowned at it for a moment and wondered which one of the Wolves was an artist.  He cast a speculative glance at Lambert as he pulled the apple out of his coat pocket and bit into it. </p><p>	“Don't look at me.  I just come down here to fish and drink,” he grumbled.  “Coen is the arsty fartsy one.”  </p><p>	Coen had been sketching something in a notebook the other night in front of the fire, so Jaskier should have guessed.  But Lambert's denial came a little too quickly.  Perhaps he dabbled a bit but was too embarrassed to admit it.  Jaskier saved the little tidbit of information for later.  But for now, he just shrugged and helped him move the furniture indoors and bar all the shutters.  It was a sturdy building despite its shabby appearance.  Jaskier supposed that it would be nice to get out of the crumbling Keep occasionally to come up to the lake.  It was pretty here.  Too too bad he wouldn't be able to come back until after the spring thaw.  By then, he might not have the chance before they left the valley entirely.	</p><p>	When they finished up and started to head back, Jaskier put his hands in his pockets.  “So who's Aiden?”</p><p>	“A cheerful bastard that I keep tripping over.”  Despite the cranky wording, Lambert's tone was fond.  “He's a Witcher from the Cat school.” </p><p>	“I didn't think you guys got along with them.”  Geralt had told him some stories of the other schools.  And while most of them coexisted relatively peacefully, The Cats and the Wolves had a long standing feud that had turned ugly more than once.</p><p>	“They're not all psychos.  You've seen Coen.  He's more like a house cat than the predators they're supposed to be.  Although I'm pretty sure they consider his mutations a failure.”</p><p>	“Why?  He's just as fast and dangerous as the rest of you.”</p><p>	“You've seen his eyes right?  He can't see in the dark quite as well, but I guess he's just as fast.”</p><p>	Even knowing it was probably a bad idea to ask, Jaskier posed the question that had been bugging him since he first heard the term.  “What are the mutations and how are they done?”</p><p>	“How do you think?  Mutations are unnatural changes.  They strapped us down, pumped us full of drugs and potions, and then sat back to see if we'd die or not.  Felt like fucking acid and hurt twice as bad.”  Lambert spat and huffed a bitter laugh.  “Out of five kids, I was the only one in my class that lived.”</p><p>	“Fuck,” Jaskier breathed.  As bad as he'd been treated himself, at least he didn't remember most of it beyond vague anxieties and fears.  And Vesemir said Geralt had gone through more because he'd taken the initial mutations so well.  “Why?”</p><p>	“Fuck if I know,” Lambert spat again before he sighed and kept walking.  “They never told us why no matter how many times I asked.  Fuck my useless father and fuck them.”  </p><p>	“What does your dad have to do with it?”</p><p>	“Abusive piece of shit got himself saved by a Witcher and the fucker called for the Law of Surprise as payment.”</p><p>	“What's that?”  </p><p>	Lambert took a deep breath and kicked a rock so hard, it flew out over the small rise ahead of them and disappeared into the trees.  “It's a stupid custom that's a total crap shoot.  If you save someone's life, you can ask for something they have that they don't expect or know about.  Sometimes it's food, sometimes it's money.  And sometimes people give away their kids.  I am what's known as a 'Child Surprise'.  La-di-<em>fucking</em>-da.”  </p><p>	“What do you mean people <em>give</em> away their kids?”</p><p>	“What do you think it means?  I ran away from home and made the mistake of coming back for my mother the night that bastard made a promise to a Witcher.  He didn't expect me to be there, so Gascaden took me back to Kaer Morhen.  Best and worst fucking day of my life.”</p><p>	“Best?”</p><p>	Lambert sighed.  “Got me out of that shit hole.  Ended up in a different one.”</p><p>	“Was it really that bad?”</p><p>	“Yeah.  Varin made sure of that.  Fucking sadist.”  The Witcher paused and took a deep breath.  “He thought that beating us would make us stronger.  And that was before the trials,” he said quietly.  </p><p>	Jaskier stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Lambert's waist, hugging him gently.  The other man stilled as if unsure of what to do.  Jaskier had seen him hugging the other Wolves and physically touching them before, so the hug itself probably wasn't bothering him.  Maybe it was the gentleness of it.  They stood there for a moment in the stillness of the woods.</p><p>	“I. Will. Stab. You.”</p><p>	Jaskier chuckled and looked up at his face.  “No you won't.”  But he pulled away just as gently and started walking along the path again, singing softly about the softening of the winter winds into spring.  It took a few moments for Lambert to follow.  </p><p>	It didn't take much longer to get back and by the time Jaskier walked through the gate, he was singing out loud.  The trees around the Keep seemed to sigh as he approached and the shimmering distress emanating from the bones in the dry moat seemed to ease.  Jaskier looked down at the remains and sighed.  And then a pebble hit him in the back of the head.  </p><p>	“Fuck,” he muttered.  </p><p>	Inside the main hall, Geralt was standing by the hearth drinking from a mug.  When he saw Jaskier approaching, the corner of his lips quirked.  And then his nostrils flared slightly as Jaskier came closer.  But he didn't say anything as Jaskier stripped out of his heavy coat and gloves and came over to press up against him.  He was really warm.  Looking up at Geralt's amused face, Jaksier smiled.</p><p>	“Lambert needed a hug.”</p><p>	“Fuck you!” the other man bellowed before stalking off into one of the side rooms.</p><p>	Geralt chuckled and curled an arm around Jaskier's shoulders.  “Cold?”</p><p>	“Yeah.  Windy outside.”</p><p>	“Come on.”  He set down his mug on the mantle and drew Jaskier towards the back corridor.  	</p><p>Out all the locations available in the Keep, Jaskier had three favorite spots.  Geralt's room was first, for obvious reasons.  The kitchen was second.  The third was the hot mineral springs tucked into the mountain cave behind the Keep.  Bodger's cave had been enjoyable, even if the conversation had been difficult to hear.  But these springs here made them look like a warm puddle in comparison.  </p><p>	Jaskier sighed as he stepped into the damp heat of the huge cave and immediately started stripping out of his clothes.  Several pools were scattered across the sloping layers of rock, all of them steaming gently.  He stepped into the nearest hot pool, hissing as the heat kissed his skin.  He settled on the low stone seat as the water rose up to his shoulders and he let the warmth sink into him.  Geralt slipped in after him, his movements hardly making the surface ripple.</p><p>	“So what did you do today?” Geralt asked him.</p><p>	“Aside from hugging Lambert?”</p><p>	“Hn.”  </p><p>	“We went up to the little house on the lake.  Have you been up there?”</p><p>	“The Keep has been my home for more than a century,” Geralt said, his tone dry.  “I have walked every inch of this valley.”</p><p>	“Do the Rock Trolls live here all the time?”</p><p>	“Trolls?”  Geralt didn't seem alarmed precisely, but his curiosity was piqued.</p><p>	“Blok and Thok.  They were hunting for something to eat.  Lambert was going to kill them and I wouldn't let him.”</p><p>	“Because. . ?” </p><p>	“Because they're harmless.”  Jaskier saw no need to kill them if they weren't hurting anyone.  And they'd only been threatening when they thought Lambert was out there to hunt them.  And when he'd been threatening Jaskier.  “If you really had an issue, you would have killed Bodger.  And I'm glad you didn't.”  </p><p>	“They'll thin out the game in the valley.”</p><p>	“Are we going to starve because I made Lambert leave them alone?”</p><p>	“Hn.  No.  Don't be dramatic.”</p><p>	“It's part of my charm and you love it,” Jaskier said as he snuggled up under Geralt's arm.  The other man sighed as he laid his arm across his shoulders and pulled him closer.  “Anyway,” Jaskier continued.  “All the buildings here are stone.  Why is the the lake house made of wood?”  </p><p>	“A hermit moved in a few decades ago and built the whole thing himself.  Used to brew beer.  We'd go talk to him every once in a while.”</p><p>	Jaskier was about to ask where he was now, but found he didn't really want to know the answer.  Let him remain a story.  He didn't want the reality that probably included a sad ending.  He thought about the bones in the moat and sighed. </p><p>	“I saw the moat today.”</p><p>	Geralt made a low rumbling sound in his chest that sounded both angry and sad at the same time.  “That was a long time ago.”</p><p>	“Lambert was really angry about it.”</p><p>	“He was was the first one to get back and see what had happened.  It messed him up.”  Geralt sighed.  “He's the youngest of us.”</p><p>	“And the angriest.”  </p><p>	“He has enough reason to be, though he should have mellowed long before now.”  </p><p>	“Old hurts are difficult to heal,” Jaskier said quietly.  “Especially if you feel the world has cheated you out of something you'll never get back.”</p><p>	Geralt considered this for a moment.  “Do you feel that way?”</p><p>	“No.”  </p><p>	It was an easy question for Jaskier to answer.  His childhood had been awful, and he'd been lied to nearly his whole life.  But he'd also been loved.  He would carry his mother in his heart always.  And while he wished he'd gotten a chance to know her and her people better, he appreciated the time he'd had.  He knew that there were some people who didn't even get that much.  And Jaskier wouldn't change anything.  Everything that had happened in his life had led him here.</p><p>	Moving over so he was straddling Geralt's lap, Jaskier looked down into his face as he traced the scar over his eye with the tip of his finger.  “I like where I am now.”</p><p>	“I like where you are now too.”</p><p>	Jaskier laughed as Geralt shifted under him and pulled his hips closer.  Leaning down to kiss him, Jaskier smiled against his mouth.  This was turning out to be a pretty decent winter.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. In the Cards</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please note the "AU Canon Divergence" and "Alternate Character Origins" tags for this series.</p>
<p>I've had a couple people politely comment on my choice of Coen's Witcher school.  The reference on the Fandom Wiki that lists him as a Griffin has a footnote stating that this detail is from a collection of short stories that weren't written by Andrzej Sapkowski, so it's not technically canon.  I didn't even notice it when I was doing the research to see where he was from.  I made him part of the Cat school because I liked it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier collapsed into one of the large chairs in front of the fire in the main room and let out a dramatic sigh.  He'd been in Kaer Morhen for six weeks now and the novelty had finally started to wear off.  Winter was fully in force now and the passes were snowed in.  The paths outside the Keep were buried and it looked like a lonely ship sailing a vast white sea as it navigated through crags of rock and trees.  And since Geralt couldn't feasibly spend every moment with him, Jaskier had to keep himself busy.</p>
<p>	The Wolves busied themselves with training, the upkeep of their equipment, caring for their stabled horses, and repairs to the crumbling Keep so the existing living areas would last just a little bit longer.  Jaskier couldn't join in most of those things, and he could only spend so much time in the library reading or in the stables with Roach.  To make things worse, he'd been having trouble coming up with lyrics over the last couple of days.  Even the fantastic sex was starting to lose its luster without anything else to occupy his time, and he never thought he'd get to that point.  Jaskier sighed again and thought about picking up his lute where it lay in one of the other chairs, but couldn't quite manage to find the motivation.  </p>
<p>	“Restless?”  Coen's quiet rumble made Jaskier roll his head against the back of the chair to look at him where he was sitting at one of the smaller tables.</p>
<p>	“Bored.”</p>
<p>	“How is your calligraphy?”</p>
<p>	“Not bad.  Why?”</p>
<p>	Coen slid a piece of paper across the table towards him.  The quiet Witcher was surrounded by sheaves of thick paper, paint pots, and three different color inkwells.  There was a canvas case with pockets holding quills and paint brushes spread out on at his elbow.   It looked like it rolled up with the tools inside to protect them from dirt and wear.  Jaskier got up to get a closer look at the paper Coen had offered.  It was the size of a large playing card and it was adorned with a beautiful image of a pair of crossed swords.  </p>
<p>	“Is that a Gwent card?”  He'd seen a few people playing it during his travels, but none of the cards had been this pretty or detailed.  It had seemed like a made up mishmash of games with strange rules.  Since half of the players had been drunk, Jaskier had started to doubt that it was a real game at all.</p>
<p>	“It will be a custom deck when I'm finished.  I can manage the painting, but my handwriting isn't the best.  I need to fill in a number here.”  He indicated the top left corner.  “And a short bit of text at the bottom.”  There was a clear space at the bottom of the card that had been painted to look like an unfurled scroll.</p>
<p>	“My handwriting was considered the best in my class.”  Jaskier nipped over to his bag and pulled out his notebook so he could bring it over.  He flipped open to a random page that was covered with tight, curling script.  His notes were considerably messier because his hand sometimes had trouble keeping up with his thoughts, but when he wrote final drafts, he often took his time filling the page with clean text.  </p>
<p>	“Hmm.  It is indeed, quite good.  I didn't realize Modern schooling included calligraphy.”</p>
<p>	“I had a private tutor, and she made sure I was motivated to learn.  She would turn my knuckles black and blue every time I wrote a letter out of form.”  Those had been some rough years.  When he was young, he flinched every time someone picked up a ruler in his presence.</p>
<p>	Coen stilled, the coiled potential in his muscles almost seeming to vibrate for a moment before he forced himself to relax.  “Teachers are often overzealous when guiding their students,” he said finally.  </p>
<p>	Jaskier settled at the table and picked up one of the paint brushes as he tried to change the subject.  “So it really <em>was</em> your easel at the lake.”</p>
<p>	“Is that where I left it?”  Coen huffed quietly.  “I suppose it doesn't matter.  I've already made another one and it will be useful to have two so we don't have to take turns.”  </p>
<p>	Jaskier laughed.  “I though Lambert sounded a little too jumpy when I asked about it.”  His eyes landed on a pair of long, twine wrapped objects with pointed tips.  “Are those pencils?  I've been struggling with pen and ink on the road for ages.  Haven't been able to find anything better for traveling.”</p>
<p>	Coen nudged the pencils toward him.  “You are welcome to have these.  I have several more in my room.  There are graphite deposits in the cliffs on the western side of the valley and they're easy to make.”</p>
<p>	“Thank you.  This will make things so much easier.”  Jaskier hefted the pencils in his hand and found they had a comfortable weight and feel in his fingers.  “I'd be happy to help with the text on the cards.  Just let me practice for a bit before I ink the real thing.  Do you have anything in mind for the text?”</p>
<p>	Coen passed him a parchment with instructions that had rough drafts of images and a list of text examples in a messy, but legible scrawl.  “It's for a friend of mine down south.  I'll be meeting up with her in the spring.”</p>
<p>	Jaskier took the offered inkwell and quill and started to warm up his wrist by writing some lines in his notebook.  He was on his last page and it reminded him that he still needed to find a scroll case for loose pages.  He wouldn't always be able to get his hands on a bound sheaf of paper or be able to make one on the road.  It was sometimes days or even weeks between major settlements.  Smaller hamlets tended to have less variety in the goods available unless you hit the jackpot and found a local craftsman who specialized.  </p>
<p>	“Do you know where I can get a scroll case?” he asked after a few minutes of writing.  “I plan to avoid Modern Cities for a while, and I'm not sure where the best places for supplies are.”</p>
<p>	Coen looked up from new card he'd started working on.  He'd painted a soft wash of green around the edges.  “Gelibol is the closest smaller town in the Wood with decent paper supplies.  The library there has several craftsman who specialize in paper and books.  Most major cities in the Wood have at least a market stall.  There's an excellent book store in Novigrad if you ever head that way.  And of course, you'll find everything you could ever want in Oxenfurt, though the prices there are rather high.”  </p>
<p>	“Thanks.  I'm not sure where we'll be headed next year, but I'll keep that in mind.”  This year was almost over.</p>
<p>	“Until then, we can head to the Keep library later and look around.  We have a lot of useful items on hand that aren't used anymore.”</p>
<p>	“That's okay.  You guys have already done enough for me.”</p>
<p>	Coen put down the brush and sat back to regard him for a moment.  “It's not a hardship for us to do something so little for one who has done so much for us.”</p>
<p>	Jaskier raised a brow.  “I haven't done anything except show up and ask for stuff.  Seriously.  All of you are doing me a favor by letting me stay here.”</p>
<p>	“I suppose it's natural that you wouldn't notice the differences because you didn't know any of us before you arrived.”</p>
<p>	“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>	“Geralt has never been particularly happy.”  Cohen sighed.  “His sorceress produced a facsimile of contentment for a time, but it always ends bitterly no matter how many times they try to make it work.  He's resigned to this life and he does the best he can.  But he's been. . .different since he met you.”</p>
<p>	Jaskier thought about it and agreed that Geralt seemed more content lately.  But he figured it was just because he was more relaxed at home than on the road.  He didn't have to protect himself from anybody here.  </p>
<p>	“Lambert isn't quite as bitter since he spent the day with you.  He's still an asshole, but some of his anger seems to have cooled, at least for the time being.”</p>
<p>	Jaskier shrugged.  “I gave him a hug.”</p>
<p>	“Really?  I'm surprised he allowed it.  He's not terribly comfortable with affection.”</p>
<p>	“And then he said he'd stab me.”</p>
<p>	“Ah.  That sounds more like the Lambert I know.”  Coen huffed a short laugh.  “But he seems more thoughtful as of late, and less resentful.”</p>
<p>	“I think he just needs to forgive himself.”</p>
<p>	“Perhaps,” Coen agreed.  “Vesemir has been <em>humming</em>.”  He said the word with a hint of awe.  “I have never heard him do that before.  And Eskel seems happier to see everyone more relaxed this winter.  He tends to carry more stress when those around him are unhappy.”</p>
<p>	“What about you?”</p>
<p>	“I enjoy your music,” Coen said with a soft smile.  “Kaer Morhen never had a minstrel when it was a fully functioning Keep.  It tended to be a dour place even when it was full of children.  But I like that the halls ring with music now.”  He paused as if considering whether or not to continue.  “Your presence here seems to have eased the sadness that has lingered in this place for decades.”</p>
<p>	“I'm just being me.”  Jaskier really wasn't doing anything on purpose.</p>
<p>	“Well, then keep being you.  And don't change for anyone but yourself.”</p>
<p>	Jaskier grinned.  “Hadn't planned on it.”</p>
<p>	They continued working on the cards together through the afternoon while Jaskier sang soft pieces of melodies as he worked.  Occasionally, he'd stop to take a few notes as new lyrics formed in his head.  He had to pull out his spare notebook when he filled the previous one.  He'd have to make a few more.  It would give him something to do as well as replenish some of his supplies.  As Jaskier took a short break to massage his hand and stretch his muscles, he sat back and watched Coen as he painted a background of fiery red on one of the cards.  Along with not physically appearing like the rest, he had no amulet.  </p>
<p>	“Can I ask you something?”</p>
<p>	“You can ask me anything you want.”</p>
<p>	Jaskier took a breath and considered his words.  “You're not from the Wolf school.”  Lambert kept calling him Cat.</p>
<p>	“That wasn't a question.”  Coen cleaned his paintbrush in a mug of water that sat at his elbow.  </p>
<p>	“Yes, well.”  Jaskier shrugged.  “No matter where you're from, why don't you have an amulet?  Don't the other schools do that?”</p>
<p>	“They do,” Coen said as his hand reached up almost unconsciously to the neckline of his shirt before he dropped it to the table again.  “I was mutated and trained by the Cat school.  But I didn't agree with their philosophies, so I left.”  </p>
<p>	There was so much to unpack in that short explanation, but Jaskier wasn't sure where to start.  Or if he even should.  Coen watched him for a few moments before continuing.</p>
<p>	“Every school has their own philosophies on how to handle hunting monsters and techniques they use to accomplish their jobs.” He paused and sighed.  “Not all of them are. . .honorable in the pursuit of their profession.  And their mutation formulas often differ, producing different results in the boys they change.”  </p>
<p>	Geralt had made a vague comment once about the Cat school and it wasn't complimentary.  He seemed pretty bitter about it so Jaskier had left it alone.  “What about Aiden?”</p>
<p>	Coen smiled and let out a short laugh.  “Aiden travels his own Path, despite our instructors' attempt to beat the independence out of him.  He's one of the exceptions.  I suppose I am too.  The results of my mutations were not considered optimal.  I think they were hoping I'd die on in my first year on the road.  They certainly didn't expect me to return.”  His mouth turned down in an unhappy expression.  “I was not welcomed back with open arms, so I decided to travel by myself indefinitely.  I left my medallion in the courtyard of the Cat Compound and left.”</p>
<p>	“I'm glad you found a better place to stay,” Jaskier said quietly, knowing that there were most likely a lot of painful details that he was leaving out.</p>
<p>	“As am I.  I crossed paths with Eskel after a hunt gone wrong.  We were after the same contract and I was somewhat less than successful in slaying the beast.  Thought I was going to bleed out in the woods alone.  It surprised the hell out of me to wake up to a Wolf stitching me up.”</p>
<p>	“Did you tell him about what school you were from?”</p>
<p>	“I did.  I believe in being honest, and I told him that if I was going to die at anyone's hands, I would rather it be someone with the strength and honor to make it a clean death.”  Coen paused thoughtfully.  “But he didn't even draw a blade.  He just . .shrugged and said we don't get to choose where we're from.  Only where we're going.”  He paused and blew out a long breath.  “I expected him to leave me there when he found out who I was.  But he stayed with me for three days until I was strong enough to walk out of the forest on my own.”  There was a quiet awe to his words.  “And then he said if I needed a safe place to stay, he'd vouch for me and told me I was welcome in Kaer Morhen.”</p>
<p>	Jaskier smiled warmly.  “Does Aiden ever stay here?”</p>
<p>	“No.  He prefers warmer climates and finds different places to stay during the winter, despite Lambert's pitiful attempts to get him to stay here.  But he's visited a couple times and everyone likes him.  He knows he's welcome.”  </p>
<p>	Coen picked up the brush again and started on another card and Jaskier made some notes in his notebook.  He hoped he'd get to meet Aiden someday.  </p>
<p>	By the time Vesemir came in to start cooking and everyone else came back in for the evening, there were two more finished cards and four that needed to dry before the main imaged was painted onto the background.  </p>
<p>	“He dragged you into all that card crap?” Lambert asked as he sauntered in.  “Sucker.”</p>
<p>	“You're just jealous,” Jaskier said without looking up as he inked the last number and set the card aside to dry.  “You'll have to show me one of your paintings sometime.  It can't be that bad.”</p>
<p>	Lambert sputtered for a moment.  “What have you been telling him, Cat?” he said to Coen.  “I don't <em>paint</em>.”</p>
<p>	“Don't worry, your badass reputation is intact,” Jaskier said with an indulgent smile.  “It's good to have hobbies.”</p>
<p>	“I'll hobby your face.”</p>
<p>	Jaskier gave him a bland look before getting up leisurely and heading into the kitchen to wash his hands and see if Vesemir needed help.  </p>
<p>	“is there anything I can do?”</p>
<p>	“Half that lemon and squeeze the juice out over this fish.  I have to take the potatoes out of the oven.”  The older Witcher nodded to a platter of beautiful looking fillets on a bed of herbed couscous and chickpeas.  Lambert had gone down to the river to fish the day before. </p>
<p>	Jaskier picked up the paring knife and got work as Vesemir brought over two deep dishes of sliced potatoes layered with cheese and more herbs.  Then he went back to get the thick, crusty rolls he'd been working on that afternoon.  The huge bowl of salad with greens, shredded carrot, and tomatoes got tossed one last time before Eskel came in to help them carry it all out to the main room.</p>
<p>	Evening meals had become the highlight of Jaskier's day because it was a chance to ask questions and listen to stories from men who'd lived several lifetimes between them.  </p>
<p>	“Have any of you come across a Succubus before?” Jaskier asked.  He'd heard stories about them, but wasn't sure how much of it was true.  Even the bestiary had been pretty vague.  Jaskier paused with his mug of ale halfway to his mouth when he saw Eskel's ears turn pink.  “<em>Seriously</em>?”</p>
<p>	Lambert chortled into his mug and Geralt smirked.  Even Coen was smiling behind his beard.</p>
<p>	“It was just the one time.  I convinced her to move to another area and. . .shut up Lambert.”  Eskel tossed a roll at him.  Lambert caught it and ripped it in half with his teeth before slathering it with butter and taking a bite.  </p>
<p>	“Oh, don't mind me,” Lambert said with another chuckle.  “You're just mad because you don't have the grounds to lecture me anymore.”</p>
<p>	“But don't they suck the life out of people?” Jaskier asked, amused but wanting some real info to go along with the joking.  </p>
<p>	“They feed of of sexual energy, but they don't necessarily kill,” Geralt said around a bite of fish.  “The smart ones set up shop and take small bites out a population over time.  Harder to detect, but safer for all involved.”</p>
<p>	Eskel shrugged and let the embarrassment slide away.  “We typically only deal with them when they leave enough bodies to be noticed.  They charm their victims and most of those who survive don't even remember what happened to them.  Someone tried to blame her for the death of a man who got knifed in an alley.  She didn't do it.”</p>
<p>	“Did she charm you?” Jaskier asked him.</p>
<p>	Eskel gave him a patient look.  “No.”  </p>
<p>	Jaskier looked away from his golden gaze.  He wasn't really intimidated, or even embarrassed necessarily.  He just didn't need to know more than that and he didn't want to pry.  Conversation turned to planning for the next week and what other parts of the Keep needed attention.  After they'd cleaned up after the meal, they settled around the fire.  Jaskier played his lute, weaving a calm, lilting melody while thinking of the comforts of home.  He closed his eyes eyes and sighed as he felt the prickle of magic wash through him.  He hadn't been focusing on magic with intent, but it happened anyway.    </p>
<p>	Beneath the music, the room was eerily quiet and when Jaskier opened his eyes again, he saw that all five Witchers were watching him carefully.  He kept playing and tried to pinpoint where the magic was coming from.  But the more he tried to focus on it, the less control he felt he had.  When his fingers twitched and he hit a wrong note, he huffed out a breath and laid his hand over the strings to still them.</p>
<p>	“Damn,” he muttered.  He blew out a tired breath when a pebble hit him lightly on the forehead before tumbling down onto the flagstones in front of the hearth.</p>
<p>	“Lambert,” Geralt rumbled in warning.</p>
<p>	“No,” Jaskier told him.  “It's fine.”  Another pebble.  He chose his words carefully, enunciating slowly.  “It's actually helping.”  When no pebble followed his last statement, Jaskier smiled softly and felt a small swell of satisfaction.  Annoyance appeared to be a decent teacher, and it was far gentler than having his knuckles rapped with a ruler.  </p>
<p>	“Well.  That was. . .not what I expected,” Vesemir said after a few moments.  </p>
<p>	“Sorry.” Jaskier winced and lowered the lute to his lap.  “I really don't have any control over it.”</p>
<p>	“It's alright.”  Vesemir appeared more thoughtful than troubled.  “When did this start exactly?”</p>
<p>	Jaskier sat back and thought about it.  “I'm pretty sure it was the first time I crossed the border.”  He turned to Geralt who sat in the chair next to him.  “When you came back for me after leaving that first time, you could feel it, couldn't you?”</p>
<p>	“Yes.  I heard your music and felt my medallion hum.  It was stronger when we crossed with the caravan, like a flame kindling from a hidden spark.”</p>
<p>	Jaskier immediately scrabbled for his pencil and notebook.  He had to write that line down before he got distracted by by something else.  When Geralt huffed and slumped in his chair, Jaskier gave him a dry look.</p>
<p>	“Oh hush.  How could you possibly expect me to ignore such fucking glorious poetry when you deign to use your words to express your thoughts?  It's such a rare occurrence, it must be recorded for posterity.”  Jaskier grinned when the other Witchers chuckled.  Geralt grumped, but he gave away how he really felt with the small quirk of his lips.  He was more amused than he let on.  </p>
<p>	Eskel watched Jaskier intently as he scribbled notes across the page.  “There seems to be no harm to your music, though we are less susceptible to being ensorceled than ordinary humans.  It seems to affect mood.  I didn't physically notice anything.”</p>
<p>	“Me either,” Lambert said in a rare show of calm reasoning.  He was usually flippant or angry when he talked about anything that mattered, but he seemed more curious now.</p>
<p>	Jaskier stopped writing for a moment and looked at them.  “But I've healed myself.  That's definitely physical.”</p>
<p>	“Have you healed another person?” Coen asked him.</p>
<p>	“No.  I've never tried, and I've been fortunate enough that none of my companions have been injured.”  Well.  Geralt had been clawed by the Werecat, but Jaskier had used salve on the wound because he hadn't understood how his magic worked.  </p>
<p>	“Hn.”  All of them grunted nearly in unison and Jaskier started laughing.  When they all turned to him again, he just laughed harder.  By the time he calmed down, tears were streaming down his face.  He must be tired.  It hadn't been <em>that</em> funny. </p>
<p>	“Oh, man.  I love you guys,” he said as he caught his breath.</p>
<p>	“I'm pretty sure it's past your bedtime, Princess,” Lambert snorted as he got to his feet.  “Geralt, get your bard to bed before he says something else stupid.”</p>
<p>	Jaskier blew him a kiss which earned him the middle finger.  He giggled again.  It turned into a full bodied laugh as Geralt stood and scooped him up out of the chair so he could carry him upstairs.  Calming down, Jaskier put his head on Geralt's shoulder. </p>
<p>	“Taking orders from Lambert now, are we?”</p>
<p>	“Can't fault him for giving good advice,” Geralt said as he kicked open the door to his room and carried Jaskier inside.  Setting him on the bed, he went back over to the door to shut it and then stoked up the fire that had burned down low.  Jaskier wriggled out of his clothes and slid under the blankets to fend off the chill of the room.  When Geralt stripped and got into bed with him, he thanked the stars that Witchers ran hot and he immediately wrapped himself around him.  </p>
<p>	“I really do love your family,” he said as Geralt pulled him in close.  “I'm glad you brought me here to meet them.”</p>
<p>	“Hn.  Me too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm taking liberties with Gwent rules, and I'm blending the images with tarot card art.  I didn't bother with Gwent much when I played Witcher 3.  Game mechanics are not my strong suit and I never wrapped my head around the rules.  I've been playing D&amp;D for more than a decade, but my poor, patient friends have to walk me through the battle math every time.  Thank goodness they don't mind.  I know it's not terribly difficult, I just can't retain the information.  (And don't get me started on White Wolf games.  I read the 2nd edition Exalted book cover to cover more than once and still didn't get it.  My Solar Exalt could throw thirty D10 dice for his grand daiklave, and I needed a cheat sheet and guidance every time.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Bubble and Boil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two weeks later, Jaskier and Coen had finished the deck of Gwent cards and the bearded Witcher traded places with Eskel to help Lambert and Geralt reinforce some of the defenses on the Keep.  Jaskier was in the library binding a sheaf of paper in a leather cover so he could take it on the road when they headed out in the spring.  There was a knock on one of the bookcases and he looked up to see Eskel watching him.  </p>
<p>	“You want to come help me in the alchemy lab today?”</p>
<p>	“Sure.”  Jaskier set his project aside and cleaned up the loose pieces of leather and twine.  “I can finish this up later.”  He tried not to sound too eager, but he'd wanted to learn more about Witcher potions since he'd mentioned it to Vesemir a few weeks ago.  He followed Eskel down to the greenhouse with it's thick panes of magical glass set in iron frames.  Iron stoves kept the room warm and pans of water maintained the humidity while the glass let the sun in.  </p>
<p>	“I need a few ingredients before we head downstairs.  Do you have any herbalism knowledge?”</p>
<p>	“I traveled with an herbalist who was heading to Vengerberg to study medicine once.  He taught me some things about edible plants and toxic things to stay away from.”  </p>
<p>	“That's a good start.  Most of what we're using isn't edible, though there are several berries that come in handy.  How squeamish are you?”</p>
<p>	Jaskier tensed.  “Why?”</p>
<p>	“Fluids and organs from monsters are used in a lot of potions.  I need to know if you're going to barf on me while we work.”</p>
<p>	“Uh.  I can't guarantee I won't throw up.  The idea of using squishy monster bits sounds disgusting.”  Jaskier swallowed uncomfortably, but he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.  “But this is important and I want to know how to do this.  Even if it's just to let me know what some of the potions are and what they do.  If Geralt is incapacitated, I want to be able to help him.”  Jaskier looked up when Eskel didn't say anything.  The other man was looking at him strangely.  “What?”</p>
<p>	“Nothing,” Eskel said with a small shake of his head.  “Grab that basket and get some of those Celandine and Blowball flowers.  We're making Swallow and Golden Oriole today.”  </p>
<p>	Jaskier took the basket and went over to the indicated bushes, plucking some of the yellow flowers and golden puffs of blooms carefully.  Once they had what they needed, they headed to the alchemy lab that was below the kitchen.  They took the same set of stairs the Vesemir had come up when Jaskier had first met him.  There was a long hallway with three separate doors and Jaskier felt moving air in between each one.</p>
<p>	“Is there ventilation down here?”</p>
<p>	“Yes.  It keeps the fumes down.  It's not quite so bad now, but when there were more of us, it would be enough to knock out a horse.  The original mages and stonemasons set up the ventilated door system so the rest of the keep could remain relatively stink free.  The hallway also makes the lab an easily defensible position.”</p>
<p> “Has it ever been attacked before. . .shit, don't answer that.  Geralt told me what happened.”  Though he hadn't offered many details.</p>
<p>	“It's alright.”  Eskel sighed heavily.  “Vesemir survived the massacre by coming down here.  Had to dig through a hallway full of bodies to get to him.”</p>
<p>	Jaskier swallowed hard and tried not to imagine the hall filled with corpses.  “I'm glad that all of you survived,” he said quietly.  He leaned into Eskel and wrapped an arm around his waist in a half hug.  The other man put his arm around his shoulders and squeezed.</p>
<p>	“Personally, I enjoy hugs,” Eskel said.  “Don't let Lambert make you think we're all haphephobes.”</p>
<p>	“Haffa-what?”</p>
<p>	“Haphephobia.  Fear of being touched.”</p>
<p>	Jaskier followed him through the last door with a frown.  The lab itself was full of large copper kettles and distillation equipment.  The acrid smell of old chemicals and herbs made Jaskier wrinkle his nose.  So many smells.  </p>
<p>	“How do you know so much about Modern medicine and psychology?”  He'd known what an MRI was when Jaskier mentioned it.  </p>
<p>	“I lived in Ard Carraigh for a while.  I thought I could live there as a regular citizen after. . .after what happened here.  I wanted to be done with this life.  No more hunting.  No more killing.”  Eskel sighed.  </p>
<p>	That didn't really answer the question directly, but Jaskier wasn't going to pry any more than that.  “How does it feel for you to be out of the Wood where there's no magic?”</p>
<p>	“Uncomfortable, but bearable.”</p>
<p>	“It felt like fire ants crawling under my skin when I first crossed back over.  And then it settled to an awful itch.”  Jaskier rubbed at his forearm absently as he recalled the sensation.  </p>
<p>	“I lasted for about six months before I got too restless to stay.  So I came back here and went back out on the Path.”  Eskel shrugged.  “It's what I'm best at.”</p>
<p>	Jaskier set the basket down on an empty patch of counter top.  “That's a lot of equipment,” He said as he looked around.  “Do you have to make stuff for the entire season all at once?”</p>
<p>	“Most of these potions can be made on the road over an open fire with a mortar and pestle, but the mixture is a little more pure when you take your time brewing.  Swallow and Golden Oriole in particular are shelf stable, so they last for quite a while.”  </p>
<p>	Jaskier went over to a set of shelves that held a wide array of jars that were grouped by size and shape.  He'd seen some of these in the box Geralt kept his potions in.  “Do you bottle potions in specific jars?”</p>
<p>	“When we can.  The color can tell you what type of potion it is, but when your eyes are gummed up with blood and monster guts, sometimes you can only tell what it is by feel.  There was a glass blower in Murivel that made all of our jars and bottles, but he died about a decade ago.  I'm not sure what we're going to do when these run out.  We try to bring the empties back with us every year so they can be reused.”</p>
<p>	The need for specific bottle shapes seemed logical, if a bit grisly.  Jaskier tried not to imagine his Witchers struggling to find a healing potion while blinded.  He went back over to the basket and started grinding up the flowers one at a time in a mortar and pestle while Eskel pulled out a crate filled with bottles of green liquid.</p>
<p>	“This is Dwarven Spirit.  All of our potions use alcohol as a base.  Most of the weaker ones use either this or Alcoholest.  Stronger versions need White Gull, but we're not making any of those at the moment.  I had a hell of a time finding any Redanian Herbal this year, so we don't have much.”</p>
<p>	“I'll keep an eye out for it when I'm on the road.  Some of the taverns we passed through had a bottle or two.  That's some pricey shit, though.”</p>
<p>	“It is,” Eskel agreed.  “We tend to save those potions for the really tough fights.”</p>
<p>	“So what do the ones we're going to make do?”</p>
<p>	“Swallow is for healing regeneration and Golden Oriole is a poison remedy.  It offers near immunity and neutralizes anything already in the system.  But I have to warn you that all of these are toxic to Humans.  Don't drink any of them yourself, even though you're mostly Elf.”</p>
<p>	“Vesemir told me.  I'm in no hurry to start chugging any of these and I'm not a fighter, so I shouldn't need them.”</p>
<p>	Eskel chuckled.  “That may be so, but Geralt told you me you have quite the collection of scars already.”</p>
<p>	“Yeah.”  Jaskier huffed as he rubbed at his shoulder.  “It's not on purpose, though.  Things just seem to happen.”</p>
<p>	Eskel just patted him on the back.  “Prepare yourself.  Here comes the gross part,” he told him as he pulled a large jar out of a cabinet.  There was a nubby, oblong object floating in the murky fluid. </p>
<p>	“Is that. . .a brain?”</p>
<p>	“Yep.  Drowner Brain.”</p>
<p>	Jaskier swallowed.  “Will it smell as bad as the Drowner body you had to pop it out of?”</p>
<p>	Eskel grinned nastily.  “Worse.”</p>
<p>	“Oh good.  Well.  Let's mush it up, chop it, boil it, or whatever.”  Jaskier set the paste he'd made out of the flowers aside and watched Eskel open the jar.  A foul stench floated out and he had to take a moment to steady himself.  “Wow.  That's. . .a lot.”</p>
<p>	“Try popping a Drowner skull open while in the middle of a nasty swamp,” Eskel said, his lip curling.  “It's not my favorite chore, that's for sure.  It would be so much easier if we could dry and powder them, but it's got to be mashed so you can make a tincture out of it.  We're going to make the tincture first so we have it on hand.  It takes a couple weeks for it be potent enough, so when we brew the actual potion later, we'll be using some that's already prepared.”</p>
<p>	Chopping up a brain was just as gross as Jaskier thought it would be, but if he imagined it as some sort of cartoon fantasy, it wasn't quite so bad.  Maybe his own brain was detaching itself from what he was doing so it didn't bother him as much.  Once it was mashed and poured into a large jug with some clean alcohol, they capped it off and set it aside so the tissues could dissolve.  </p>
<p>	“Well, that was disgusting.  What's next?”</p>
<p>	Eskel pulled out a small jar of cloudy fluid.  “This is a Drowner brain tincture that was prepared a few weeks ago.  Now we get the rest of the ingredients together and start brewing.  Bring the bowl of Celandine paste over to this pot.”  </p>
<p>	They poured a bottle of Dwarven Spirit into the waiting pot and threw in the Celandine paste with the bottle of Drowner Brain tincture and waited for it to come to a boil.  </p>
<p>	“So how many kinds of potions are there?”</p>
<p>	“A lot.  Not sure how many off the top of my head.  There are several basic potions that have two or three stronger versions when you add more ingredients.  And then there are decoctions.  They're all specific to the monster parts you throw in the pot.”</p>
<p>	“What about the stuff you pour over your sword?  Geralt used something when he fought a Noonwraith.”</p>
<p>	“Was it dark green?”</p>
<p>	“Yeah.”</p>
<p>	“Specter Oil made with bear fat and Arenaria.  Pouring a prepared oil on your sword blade gives you an advantage in a fight.  There's an oil for almost every monster, but that's a different process.  You have to boil down a fat, like bear fat or dog tallow from wolves, and add some additional ingredients.  And if you think this smells bad, I can't even begin to describe what boiling fat is like.  We usually do it outside in the south yard.”</p>
<p>	“Downwind?”</p>
<p>	“You bet,” Eskel said with a grin.  “This has to boil down for a while.  We'll get a batch of Golden Oriole going while this cooks.”  He poured another bottle of Dwarven Spirit into a second pot and pulled out a jar of fluid that glowed faintly.  “This is Light Essence.  It comes from spirits like Noonwraiths.”</p>
<p>	“I was wondering what Geralt put in the jar after he killed it.  But that was a glittery powder.”</p>
<p>	“Take that and add it to some clean alcohol and you get Light Essence.  Very handy.”  Eskel poured it into the pot while Jaskier brought over the Blowball paste and put it in.  Then they settled down to wait while they kept an eye on the boiling mixtures.</p>
<p>	Jaskier spent the next hour asking Eskel all kinds of questions as he poked through all of the chests and cabinets in the room.  Some of the herbs and flowers were dried, some of them were grown upstairs, and others had to be bought from traders or harvested on the road.  The mutagens were just weird.  Strangely colored blobs of goo were suspended in oil to preserve them after they'd been gathered from the heart's blood of a monster.  The ones with the strange, multicolored shapes were odd and slightly uncomfortable to look at.  Jaskier was glad they weren't working with any of those today.  </p>
<p>	“Is any of this a secret?  Do I need to make sure that I don't tell anyone about this?” Jaskier asked.</p>
<p>	“It's probably better that you keep the information to yourself, but the recipes themselves aren't really a secret.  Any Witcher from any school could brew them.”</p>
<p>	“What about the stuff in there?”  Jaskier pointed at a locked iron box that was embedded in the stone wall.  It looked like the edges of the cover were welded shut all the way around.</p>
<p>	Eskel looked at it and sighed.  “That contains recipes for the potions and decoctions used in the Trial of the Grasses and the Trial of the Dreams.  They're used to turn boys into Witchers.  We don't make those anymore and they are <em>incredibly</em> secret.  We can't let anyone start that shit all over again.”</p>
<p>	“Why not burn them if they're that bad?”</p>
<p>	Eskel's lips thinned.  “The recipes are enchanted with protections to keep them from being destroyed.  Short of being thrown into a volcano, I'm not sure anything can damage the parchment.  Even then, it would probably just float on the surface of the lava.”  He shook his head.  “That was the best we could do.”</p>
<p>	Jaskier wanted to ask more, but what little he'd heard of the Trials was awful.  None of them would talk about it in detail, but there was a tightness to their shoulders and an aura of unhappiness that made Jaskier avoid the subject entirely.  His curiosity wasn't so strong that he would force them to relive one of the most horrible parts of their lives.  </p>
<p>	By now, both potions had brewed down to a thicker fluid at the bottom of the pots.  Eskel poured out the thin goop, red for the Swallow and golden yellow for the Golden Oriole, through a strainer to get all of the flower pulp out and then poured the rest into waiting vats that were part of the still system.  </p>
<p>	“We're going to distill this to get the rest of the water out so it becomes more concentrated.  We'll leave it overnight and tomorrow, we'll finish and bottle them.  Come on.  You'll want a bath after basking in the fumes down here all afternoon.”  Eskel guided him back out through the long hallway and the three doors into the fresher air of the main chamber upstairs.    </p>
<p>	Jaskier went up to the room he shared with Geralt and picked up some clean clothes and his his toiletry kit before heading back down to the hot springs.  His first major purchase when they left in the spring would be to get some new clothes.  He'd been wearing some spare clothes they'd found at the Keep along with one of Geralt's shirts that he'd snagged and never given back.  But he missed silks and vibrant colors.  </p>
<p>	For the sake of the Pankratz family image, Jaskier had been forced to wear sedate, socially acceptable clothing most of his childhood so he wouldn't draw attention to himself or give the family a bad name.  When he'd gone into the Wood with his mother as a child, she'd made him a brightly colored outfit of blue silk and he'd felt like himself for the first time.  So when the man pretending to be his father died, Jaskier promised himself that he'd dress how he wanted.  He tucked a pair of dark brown woolen trousers and one of Geralt's black shirts under his arm as he head down the stairs.  At least these were comfortable.  He'd make do for now.</p>
<p>	He scrubbed himself clean in the cooler pool that had a running stream through it, getting most of the stink of potion making out of his hair.  Then he settled down in one of the warmer pools to let the day soak away.  This was his second favorite part of the day after meals.  Eskel settled in the pool across from him.  The meat of his left thigh was puckered with claw marks.  That must have hurt.</p>
<p>	“What did you do in Lettenhove before you decided to come into the Wood?” Eskel asked him.</p>
<p>	“Not much, really.  I wasn't allowed to do anything for a long time.  I went to school and kept to myself.  It was only in the last few years after the shithead pretending to be my father died, that I started to really decide what I wanted.  After dropping out of private school, I went to the University.  That's where I met my friend Essi.”  She was his first real friend and the best thing that ever happened to him.  He hoped she was okay.</p>
<p>	“When did you discover your interest in music?”</p>
<p>	“I've always loved singing.  I think it came from my Elven family.  My mother would sing to me when I was young, and my grandfather was the one who made my lute.”</p>
<p>	“What was his name?”</p>
<p>	“Maedrilyn.  Have you ever met him?”  Jaskier tried not to sound too eager.  Filavandrel hadn't told him much before they left the Elven camp in the mountains.  </p>
<p>	“I don't believe I've had the pleasure.”</p>
<p>	“That's too bad.  Filavandrel knew him and my mother, but he didn't really tell me anything.  He and my real father died in the Great Cleansing.”</p>
<p>	“That was a shameful load of shit.”  Eskel shook his head and sat back in the pool, closing his eyes as he settled deeper in the water.  “It's one thing for people to come after us, but a lot of the Elves who died were women and children who'd done nothing.”  </p>
<p>	“But weren't there kids here too?”</p>
<p>	Eskel looked at him sadly.  “Only a few.  But it was a few too many.  Vesemir is right that there should never be more of us.  The process is too cruel.”</p>
<p>	“Are any of the other schools still operational?”</p>
<p>	“Not that I'm aware of.  They've all died out over the years.  It's just a handful of survivors now.”  </p>
<p>	“That's too bad.  I wish people could get to know you better,” Jaskier said sleepily as the heat soaked into his muscles.  “You're some of the best people I've ever met.”  He didn't see Eskel's fond look as he watched him from the other side of the pool.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>While doing some research for the flowers mentioned in this chapter, I found out that Celandine flowers are also known as Fig Buttercups, and Blowball flowers are most likely Dandelions.  Mmmm.  Literary symmetry.  It was coincidental that I used those two, since I picked the potions they would be making first and looked up the ingredients later, but I like it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Things You Hold In Your Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier sucked in a breath as the knife tumbled from his fingers again.  It clattered to the flagstones of the main room with a light clanging sound.  He flexed his fingers and massaged his knuckles trying to work the soreness from them.  </p><p>	“Am I actually getting worse at this?” he asked piteously, not caring if it sounded like he was whining.  </p><p>	“You're getting frustrated which makes it feel like it's worse,” Geralt said, his tone patient.  Mostly.  They'd been working on Jaskier's knife skills for a couple of weeks now, but it wasn't going particularly well.  Picking up the knife, Geralt handed it back to him.  “Try again.”</p><p>	Jaskier curled his fingers lightly around the hilt as he'd been shown and tried to take a stance.  He took a steadying breath and calmly moved through a form.  And then he thought about the blade slicing through skin and flesh, and he lost his nerve.  His grip loosened and the knife fell again.  </p><p>	“Shit,” he swore.  “I don't think I can do this.”</p><p>	“It's alright,” Geralt said evenly.</p><p>	“Is it?  You've been after me about this since you first gave the damn thing to me back in Yspaden.”  What if he never figured out how to use it?  He didn't want anything to do with it, really.  But he felt like he was a disappointment, and that was a bitter feeling he hadn't experienced since he'd left Lettenhove.  </p><p>	“I'm not going to force you to learn,” Geralt said, annoyance tinging his words for the first time that day.</p><p>	“Then I'm not going to keep doing this.”  Jaskier picked up his coat and left the room, heading outside into the courtyard because he didn't want to go up to Geralt's room or to the cold, dark library.  He huddled into the coat as he walked across the cracked stone of the yard as the chill winter wind cooled the sweat on his back.  It wasn't his skills he was worried about.  He'd wasn't so uncoordinated that he couldn't wield a knife or learn the footwork.  And he was competent in the kitchen when chopping and cutting things.  It was the deadly potential in the blade when facing another person that bothered him.</p><p>	A week before Geralt had started trying to train him, Eskel had offered to help Jaskier develop his ability to heal others.  He'd taken out a knife and sliced open the palm of his hand, offering the bleeding appendage like he hadn't just torn his own skin open.  Jaskier had been horrified.  Hearing the slice of steel through flesh had made him shudder like his own hand had been cut.  He'd been too distressed to concentrate.  Eskel had poured part of a potion over it, making the wound bubble, before binding it up and drinking what was left in the bottle.  The next day, he showed Jaskier his healed hand to reassure him that everything was fine.  But the damage had already been done.</p><p>	And now, every time Jaskier held the damn knife, all he could think about was the blade slicing along Eskel's hand. </p><p>	He'd joked about being a lover and not a fighter before, but maybe there was more truth that than he'd thought.  Jaskier wasn't a coward, and he wasn't squeamish about blood, though he didn't like watching Geralt clean game.  But knives made him nervous and he wasn't sure why aside from the obvious.  Geralt carried two scary swords and those didn't bother him.  But then again, he trusted Geralt implicitly and knew he'd never use his blades to harm him.  Shrugging deeper into the coat, he found himself sulking.  Things had been going so well, and this was the first thing he'd attempted to do that he'd truly failed at.</p><p>	It was late afternoon now and it was dark and cloudy outside.  A storm would be rolling through tonight.  He could hear the horses nickering in the stable as they felt the weather shift.  He should have brought a candle or a lantern with him.  His night vision was much better than it used to be, but there would be no moon tonight and he couldn't see with no light at all.  Hopefully he'd find something in the tack room.  He wasn't in a hurry to go back inside.  Roach greeted him warmly as he came through the door, coming over to the door of her stall so he could kiss her nose and scratch behind her ears.  </p><p>	“How are you today, Sweetheart?”  They all seemed in good spirits today, if a little unsettled by the incoming weather.  They'd spent a fair amount of time outside in the yard earlier while Coen cleaned out the stalls thoroughly before the storm rolled through and kept them indoors for a while.  Eskel's horse Scorpion was by far, the best behaved.  Like his rider, he was even tempered and kind while not putting up with any shit.  Lambert's horse whinnied at him, vying for his attention.  </p><p>	“Coen was just in here an hour ago, Orchid.  You are not starved for attention,” he told her sternly.  She showed him her teeth and he was pretty sure she'd bite him if he got close enough.  Lambert was mortified by the name, much to Jaskier's delight, but she wouldn't answer to anything else.  Bear, Coen's horse who occupied the next stall, huffed at her.  The stocky warhorse seemed placid until he was provoked.  Orchid nipped at him halfheartedly but didn't dare actually make contact, like she knew better.  Bear seemed unruffled as he dug into a bucket of oats. </p><p>	“None of you will judge me if I don't learn how to use a knife properly, will you?”</p><p>	“<em>I'm</em> not going to judge you either.”  Geralt's quiet rumble would have caught him off guard, but somehow, Jaskier knew he was going to follow him out here.  He'd half hoped he would, but at the same time, he'd wanted solitude.  For all the space they had in the huge Keep, five Witchers seemed to take up a lot of space.  He could hardly imagine what this place must have been like when there had been more of them.</p><p>	“Even if I'm completely hopeless with a knife?”</p><p>	“Even if you're completely hopeless with a knife.  I want you to be able to protect yourself, but I'm not going to beat it into you.”</p><p>	Jaskier turned to him at the worried sound in his voice.  “I never thought you would.  But I don't like failing.”</p><p>	“You're not failing.”</p><p>	“Feels like it.”  Jaskier huffed a laugh when Roach nuzzled at his neck and he put his hand on her nose.  “I'm fine.”  </p><p>	“You don't sound fine.”  Geralt came over and pulled Jaskier into a hug.  His lips curled into a smile when Roach butted his shoulder.  “I'll take care of him, I promise.”</p><p>	“You shouldn't have to.  I don't want to be a burden while we travel together.”</p><p>	“You're not. . .”  Geralt sighed, and and lowered his voice, softening his tone.  “You've never been a burden.”</p><p>	Jaskier pulled back enough to frown up at him.  “That was not a happy face you made when Stellan hired to you keep an eye on me.”</p><p>	“That's when I was saddled with a accident-prone stranger that I couldn't figure out.”</p><p>	“<em>Accident</em>-prone?” Jaskier huffed.</p><p>	“You got treed by Wargs and nearly tripped over an Endrega nest.”</p><p>	Jaskier opened his mouth and closed it again, not wanting to agree with him, but unable to deny things that had actually happened.  “But you kept trying to get rid of me.”</p><p>	Geralt looked at him for a moment as he tightened his grip on him.  “Because I was scared of you,” he said quietly.</p><p>	“What?  Why?  I'm hardly threatening, as all of you have pointed out more than once,” Jaskier grumbled.</p><p>	“Traveling alone. . .”  Geralt paused as he struggled for words.  It was sometimes difficult for him to speak his thoughts aloud.  “I don't have to hold myself accountable when I'm by myself.”</p><p>	“I don't understand.   You always hold yourself accountable, even when I'm not with you.  You are your own person, and you take responsibility for everything you do.”</p><p>	Geralt's expression turned pained.  “You've known me for a very short time.  Not nearly long enough to understand.”</p><p>	“Don't give me all that the worldly Witcher bullshit.  I know what I need to know about you.”  Jaskier pressed in close and put his head on Geralt's shoulder.  He could feel the slow thump of his heartbeat under his ear.  “I know you're trying to help me protect myself, but I am safer with you.”</p><p>	“You're not always with me.”</p><p>	“True.  I'll just have to talk my way out of problems.  I can be fairly convincing when I put my mind to it.”  Jaskier felt Geralt's deep chuckle under his ear.  </p><p>	“Somehow I think that may make things more difficult.” </p><p>	“Hey.”  Jaskier thumped him lightly on the back.</p><p>	“Come inside.  It's going to be dark soon and it's already started to snow.”</p><p>	They checked each stall to make sure the horses had everything they needed before going back inside.  Jaskier inhaled deeply as the smell of roasting meat hit him.  </p><p>	“Oh, that smells glorious.”  He'd picked up a fair amount of cooking knowledge during his time here and he was already putting together a kit for when they set out again.  He was going to be prepared for the lean times between towns and villages.  He wouldn't have the magic refrigerator on the road, but he'd make due.</p><p>	“You done moping, Princess?” Lambert asked from his seat by the hearth where he was sharpening a knife.  </p><p>	“Fuck off, Lambert,” Jaskier told him lazily as he flipped him off on his way to the kitchen.  It made the sarcastic Witcher grin.  </p><p>	On the main worktable, there was a huge haunch of beef that had been spit roasting all afternoon after being rubbed with a variety of spices.  Creamy mashed potatoes with herbs and butter, glazed carrots, and a salad of mixed greens with roasted asparagus rounded off the meal.  Jaskier had never eaten so well as he had here.  He carried out the carrots and salad while Geralt brought out the roast.  Vesemir followed with the potatoes.  Coen parceled out mugs of ale while Lambert set out the plates.  Jaskier could hear the howl of wind starting outside.</p><p>	“So,” Lambert started as he scooped a load of potatoes onto his plate.  “Where is everyone headed this year?”  In a few short weeks, the passes would start to clear and they'd all go their separate ways until next winter.</p><p>	“I'll be heading south again to Caravista to meet Manylla.” Coen said.  “Once I give her the deck of Gwent cards, I'll be heading northwest toward Tigg.”  </p><p>	“I'm going to go north towards Barefield so I can talk to Tremaine,” Eskel said.  “Hopefully, it won't get ugly.”</p><p>	Jaskier paused as he was cutting into the tender meat of his roast.  “Could you take him a letter for me?”</p><p>	Lambert snickered.  “Make sure you soak it in cat piss so he knows it for him.  I'm pretty sure he can't read.”</p><p>	“Lambert,” Vesemir said quietly without looking up from his meal.</p><p>	“I still don't get why we play nice.  It's better to kill him before he becomes a problem.”</p><p>	“But he's a person,” Jaskier said, putting his fork down entirely before he lost control and threw it at him.  </p><p>	“He's a monster.”  Lambert's lip curled.  “He's not a hunk of rock with the brain of a child.”</p><p>	“No,” Eskel said.  “He's a living being with intelligence and the ability to reason.  That's more than enough to warrant a discussion rather than an execution.”</p><p>	“Suit yourself.  I'm definitely not going to do it.  I'm going to Nastrog over by the coast.  It's warmer over there.  I hate the fucking cold.”</p><p>	“I'd be happy to take your letter, Jaskier.”  Eskel rolled his head lazily towards Lambert and took a bite of carrot, chewing deliberately as he gazed at his brother steadily.  “And I'll read it to him myself if he's unable.”</p><p>	“Sucker,” Lambert huffed, mostly unperturbed.</p><p>	“Asshole,” Eskel said easily.</p><p>	Jaskier turned to Geralt.  “Where are we going?”</p><p>	“I figured we'd make our way over to Novigrad.”  </p><p>	Jaskier brightened immediately.  As one of the largest cities in the Wood in the north, it would have the most goods available and Jaskier desperately needed new clothes.  It was also where Elihal said he was heading.  He really wanted to see him again.  But he'd assumed that Geralt would want to steer clear of large settlements.  He didn't seem comfortable around large groups of people.</p><p>	“Really?”</p><p>	“I just assume replenish your wardrobe so you'll stop talking about it,” Geralt rumbled, his voice holding a quiet humor that made Jaskier smile despite the backhanded bitching.</p><p>	“Maybe we can get <em>you</em> something new to wear so you won't look like a dark rain cloud all the time.”  Jaskier grinned into his mug.  The tension that had risen earlier faded away as talk shifted to weapons dealers and traveling traders.  They each took part of a list of herbs to keep an eye out for as well as spirits to replenish their supplies.  Tomorrow, they'd parcel out the potions Eskel and Jaskier had been working on.  By the time the passes opened, they'd all be ready to go. </p><p>	After dinner, they settled around the fire and Jaskier started singing.  He'd been working on a piece for weeks, and it had just come together today while they talked during the meal.  It was a song of wolven brothers who traveled far from home all alone.  The road was difficult and the people unkind.  But they protected the weak and fought the fearsome until it was time to come home again.  They reunited around the fire on the mountain, licking each other's wounds and sharing tales of their battles across the land.  They snapped and bit, but they always settled into an easy companionship, the friendship of brothers.  And when the first kiss of spring warmed the air, they'd go out and travel Path again.  </p><p>	The Witchers sighed when Jaskier finished and the sound seemed to echo throughout the hall as if there were more than just five people exhaling.  Jaskier hadn't heard the children's voices or the angry screams for weeks now, but every once in a while, the Keep would seem to feel alive with echoes.  They were calmer now and the Wolves seemed more relaxed than when he arrived.  Jaskier liked to think he had something to do with that.  </p><p>	“You're not actually going to sing that in front of people, are you?”  Lambert seemed cautious.  	</p><p>“Why not?  It's not like anyone would really know I was singing about you.  And even if they did, so what?”  Jaskier continued to strum lazily.  He supposed some people might pick up on it.  The title of the song was 'the Wolves of Kaer Morhen,' after all.</p><p>	“If you hadn't noticed, we're not exactly universally loved.”  Lambert sneered and pulled out a knife in a gesture meant to occupy him.  It was the closest thing to fidgeting Jaskier has seen him do so far.</p><p>	“A sentiment which I'm trying to change.”</p><p>	“You could potentially be painting a target on your back.”  Coen at least, seemed concerned about his safety.</p><p>	“It wouldn't be the first time,” Jaskier said with a shrug.</p><p>	“My condolences,” Lambert said to Geralt.  “I thought he had a stronger sense of self preservation than that.”</p><p>	“Doubt me all you wish,” Jaskier said, unperturbed.  “But I fully intent to sing your praises at every opportunity.  People may hate you, but it's only because they don't know you.”</p><p>	“Geralt, are you sure about this?” Eskel asked, concern tinging his voice.  </p><p>	“You're wasting your breath trying to convince him not to,” Geralt said, hooking his foot around Jaskier's ankle when he tried to kick his shin.  When Jaskier couldn't get loose, he resigned himself to rubbing the toe of his boot along Geralt's calf which earned him a dry look.  He just grinned back.</p><p>	“Besides,” Jaskier said.   “He's already gotten a few contracts because of my singing.”</p><p>	“One.  I got one contract because someone recognized me from your description.  And I didn't get paid because there was no monster.”</p><p>	True.  A man's wife had disappeared, and it turned out that she'd run off with a trader instead of being cursed.  But it still counted.  “Be that as it may, he still recognized you and asked you for help.  He probably would have been too scared to do so if I hadn't warmed him up with a song describing how you help people.”</p><p>	“It was a song that almost got you killed.”</p><p>	“Well . . .”  Jaskier didn't really have an answer for that.  He'd sang a song about a woman's killer being brought to justice even though it hadn't happened yet.  And he'd been singing about the wrong person.  The accidental killer's friends had tried to kidnap Jaskier from the market in Gelibol because they thought he knew who'd really done the deed.  Only intervention from Yarpen and his fellow Dwarves had saved him since Geralt hadn't been in town at the time.  “It turned out fine,” he said.  “And I promised to be more careful.”  </p><p>	“Hn.”  Geralt's grunt was more resigned than unhappy.  </p><p>	“I still don't think you can change anyone's mind,” Lambert huffed.  </p><p>	“Wanna bet?”  Jaskier arched a brow when Lambert glared at him.  “Fifty crowns.”</p><p>	“For what?”</p><p>	“Fifty crowns if someone approaches you for job because of one of my songs.”</p><p>	“What do I get when you lose?”</p><p>	Jaskier thought about it for a minute.  What would be an even exchange and something that would make Lambert  think he'd won?  He wasn't interested in money.  It would have to be better than that.  Jaskier grinned when an idea occurred to him.  “If no one approaches you for a job because of one of my songs before we come back here next year, I'll wear a dress around the Keep for a week.”</p><p>	Lambert smirked.  “Only if I get to pick the dress.”</p><p>	“Deal.”</p><p>	“You're going to look good in pink lace.”</p><p>	Jaskier laughed, knowing the other man thought it would be a humiliating experience for him.  But Jaskier had no reservations about wearing a dress.  He'd once made a drunken bet with Essi and they'd gone to a tailor in Lettenhove so Jaskier could try on the dresses off the rack.  It had turned into an impromptu lesson on how to curtsy properly.  By the end of the night, they'd both been swathed in ruffles and lace walking down main street arm in arm singing at the top of their lungs.  Ferrant had been appalled.  It was glorious.  </p><p>	Jaskier sat back and looked at the five men sitting around the fire with him.  Five men who'd been thrust into a life they wouldn't have chosen for themselves.  But they made the best of what they had despite the tragedies that had befallen them.  </p><p>	“What's that goofy look for?” Lambert asked him.  </p><p>	“Just thinking about how I couldn't have asked for better friends.  This has been the best winter that I can remember.”</p><p>	Lambert blinked at him and opened his mouth, most likely to say something scathing.  He huffed and looked away.  “You're not as annoying as you could be,” he said before getting up and stalking away.  The other four smiled softly.</p><p>	“It has been our pleasure to host you here during these weeks,” Vesemir said warmly.  “This has been. . .an easier winter than most.”  With that, he got up to go to his own room.</p><p>	“That's fairly high praise from the Old Wolf,” Coen said as he stood.  “I am glad to have met you and spent time in your company.  I am looking forward returning next year to hear some new songs.”</p><p>	“Bring stories,” Jaskier said.  “I'm always looking for new material.”  He watched Coen move off.</p><p>	That left Eskel and Geralt.  Jaskier had seen how close the two of them were and he was glad to have met Geralt's closest brother.  He was kind, but strong and unyielding when he was protecting someone.  And he was brave enough to love despite what they'd all been through as children.  </p><p>	“I'm glad Geralt found you, Jaskier,” Eskel told him quietly.  “Our lives have been markedly improved by your presence.”  </p><p>	Jaskier found himself flushing with pleasure.  “It's mutual, believe me.  Being here has been. . .”  He struggled to find the words.  “I never expected to find so many people who would actually. . .give a damn about me.” </p><p>	A sad look passed over Eskel's face.  “And for that, I am genuinely sorry.”</p><p>	“It's not your fault,” Jaskier huffed.  “People are assholes.”</p><p>	“Indeed, they are.  But it saddens me to think that the people who raised you didn't do so with love.”  Eskel looked at Jaskier steadily.  “It is my honer to be your friend.”</p><p>	Jaskier just nodded since he couldn't say anything around the lump in his throat.  Eskel nodded back before getting up and heading to bed.  He patted Geralt on the shoulder as he passed.  Jaskier and Geralt sat quietly in front of the fire for a while before Geralt reached out and took Jaskier's hand.  Jaskier gripped his fingers tightly as he stared at the fire through a sheen of unshed tears.  Despite how restless he felt at times, he would be sorry to leave in the spring.  He would miss all of them and he had to remind himself that he wouldn't be leaving alone.  </p><p>	“I will travel with you as long as you'll have me,” Jaskier said quietly as he watched the fire burn down in the hearth.  Geralt didn't say anything.  He just squeezed Jaskier's hand.  Jaskier kept hold of his fingers as he got up and went over to stand in front of him.  He drew Geralt to his feet and looked up into his face.  “Take me to bed, Wolf,” Jaskier said as he leaned up and kissed him softly.  </p><p>	Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier's waist and lifted him up so his feet left the floor.  Jaskier wrapped his legs around Geralt's waist and the other man's shifted his hold automatically to support him.  Jaskier could feel Geralt smiling against his mouth as he carried him up to his room.  There were only a few weeks left before they left here, but Jaskier would hold this place and its occupants in his heart.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The idea for this story started out as something more action oriented and grand, but I found myself focusing more on quiet interactions between Jaskier and each of the Witchers instead.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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